


CSI: Control

by fhsa_archivist



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-11
Updated: 2006-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:12:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: After being buried alive, Nick needs to regain control of his life somehow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: through Grave Danger  


* * *

Nick slowly opened the door of his Tahoe, shielding his eyes against the sun as he stared up at the Nevada State Prison for Women. He heard the door slam shut before he realized he'd closed it, gravel crunching under his feet as he stepped away from the SUV.

 

He couldn't take another step.

 

He'd decided he had to do this. His body had healed, leaving no visible reminders of his ordeal save the odd scar here and there from bites he hadn't been able to resist scratching. With the exception of his partial hearing loss due to the shot he'd fired in such a small space, the only thing that remained for him to recover from was the psychological scars, and he couldn't do that until he'd faced the only living reminder and motivation of Walter Gordon's twisted act.

 

He wasn't able to face her yet. Not for real. He hadn't rid himself of the demons that had resided in his spirit ever since he'd been buried alive. He couldn't face Kelly Gordon until he'd worked it out of his system, until he no longer felt that violent anger every time he thought of her or her father.

 

Nick scowled at the shadows of the prison, kicking up a toeful of gravel as he abruptly turned. He wasn't ready. He didn't know if he would ever be.

 

***

 

Gil was alone in his office when Nick arrived at the crime lab, studying a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him. Nick was having second thoughts when Gil looked up and noticed him standing in the doorway. "Nick," he said, sounding surprised. "What can I do for you?"

 

Gil didn't ask the unasked question, whether Nick was planning to come back to work yet or not. Nick was still putting it off, milking all he could out of the state's requirement to support his recovery. "I don't... I'm not really sure why I'm here."

 

He wasn't. He had no idea how he'd gotten to the crime lab. He hadn't even know it was his destination. He was doing that a lot lately, not knowing where he was going until he got there.

 

Gil regarded him thoughtfully, concern creasing his forehead. "Have you been attending your PEAP counseling?"

 

"Yeah... yes." Nick dropped his gaze to the front of Gil's desk, instead of looking Gil in the eye like he usually did. There were things he couldn't say at those appointments, things he worried would brand him as unpredictable and hurt his chances of keeping his job. When he looked up again, Gil was watching him intensely, hiding his curiosity behind his spectacles.

 

"Is it helping?" he asked, prompting Nick to continue. Nick sighed.

 

"No," he said simply. It wasn't helping. There was only one thing that was helping, but he'd hoped all it would take was one time. Once had turned into twice, three times, until it was all he thought about. It was costing him a lot of money but even more than that, it was costing him his sense of self even as it provided him with some much-needed release and sanity.

 

Gil repeated his earlier question. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

 

Was there anythin Gil could do to help. No, not really, unless he had a design on a time machine or some way to remove all the memories and all the fear and all the anger. Gil couldn't help him. "You're helping just by talking to me."

 

"Am I?" Gil didn't miss a beat. He never did. Nick felt like hanging his head, apologizing again for letting Gil down, but Gil would just insist again that Nick hadn't disappointed him, that none of what had happened was his fault. Only Nick was reacting the way he was reacting, and if he told Gil, not only did he risk it going on the record, he risked having Gil look through him the way he did when Gil didn't know what to say to a new and shocking piece of evidence.

 

"Yes," Nick insisted. He had to make Gil believe it, even if he didn't. Nick glanced behind him, checking to make sure the door was closed. Then he stared at his hands, turning them over in his lap. "I saw your face first when they started diggin' me outta there. You talked me through it, kept me calm. Without you, I woulda jumped outta there and God knows what would've happened." Nick took a deep breath, still wringing his hands. "I can't see you as just a boss, Gil. I mean, you are, but you're so much more than that, too." Nick looked up, wishing he knew what he was saying or at least how to say it.

 

Gil took off his glasses to chew thoughtfully on the earpiece. Maybe he'd said too much. Maybe it had come out wrong. "I know," Gil finally said, seeming a bit distant now. Nick was surprised he didn't just retreat back into his papers. "Formal distinctions tend to seem less important after you've shared a life-and-death experience with someone."

 

Nick wondered what life-and-death experiences Gil had shared with who, but he didn't ask. Nick had enough painful memories of his own. "Yeah," he muttered, closing his hand in a fist on his knee. "Changes your perspective."

 

"It most certainly does." Beyond agreeing with him, Gil seemed at a loss for what else to say, so Nick took pity on him and started to stand, ready to make his excuses to leave. He didn't even know what he was doing there in the first place, other than the fact that the reasons he'd hastily made up for Gil's talking being helpful were actually true. Maybe he'd known that and that was why he was there.

 

"I should go," he drawled, stretching out the words and trying to think up some excuse but Gil looked grateful enough to be relieved from his supervisory duties that Nick decided he didn't need an excuse. Nick jerked a nod in Gil's direction before he left, head bowed as he walked out. There was one more person he had to see before he decided to go.

 

***

Hiding was cowardly, but it was better than having to talk to anyone who happened by. There were very few people Nick was ready to talk to, and all of them worked here. Unfortunately, even more of the people he wasn't comfortable talking to worked at the crime lab, too.

 

Warrick nodded at something someone was saying before he put his hand on the door, pulling it open distractedly. Nick waited until the door swung shut behind him to step out of the shadows of the corner, making his dramatic entrance into Warrick's line of sight.

 

"Jesus!" Warrick took a step back and braced a hand back against the wall, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head until recognition dawned. "Nick? The hell, man. Y'almost gave me a heart attack."

 

Nick took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets, offering Warrick an apologetic look. "Sorry. Didn't want anyone to see me."

 

Warrick snorted, but he was smiling. "Afraid they'll put you back to back to work?"

 

"Something like that, yeah." More like he was afraid that someone would try to talk to him, but he wasn't about to admit that out loud. "So uh, how you been doin'?"

 

"Same ol'," Warrick shrugged, casting a glance at Nick. Nick knew what he was thinking; it was his turn to ask the question back to Nick, but it might do more harm than good. Warrick wouldn't want to make him think about it or talk about it if he didn't want to. Thing was, he didn't exactly ever stop thinking about it. "So what're you doin' back here?"

 

Nick wished he knew the answer. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Guess I just needed to see some old friends."

 

Warrick smiled, exchanging a meaningful look with him. Nick remembered the moment Warrick had taken his hand, grounding him more than Gil alone could. He'd been desperate to get out, only Gil's steady words and warnings keeping him in place, Warrick's strong hold nearly breaking the bones in his hand, distracting him from the pain of the bites and the need to move.

 

Not caring that anyone might see, Nick crossed the room and gripped Warrick's hand, taking himself back to that night and the moment he'd started thinking everything was going to be okay. Warrick tensed at the suddenness of Nick's action but he didn't pull away, seeming to understand that Nick needed this right now.

 

Nick knew he was weak to need this, to need reassurance that he and Warrick both still of this world. He needed religion or something, not the physical outlet he'd been using, but this was almost as good and he wasn't going to let go until Warrick made him.

 

The next thing he knew, Warrick had him trapped in a hug, Nick still clutching his hand as Warrick patted his shoulderblade. Nick stiffened, wanting to accept it but he felt so weak, so out of control. He needed control. He needed to pull back and make sure his face was dry and stop feeling like a victim.

 

"If there's anything I can do..."

 

He was so sick of hearing that. "I'm fine," he lied, and averted his eyes. Warrick would know he was lying, but Warrick had work to do. Warrick couldn't and wouldn't go after him, because he respected that Nick would talk to him when he was ready. Nick hoped. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." He wouldn't, of course, not for weeks now, but Warrick would just have to be satisfied with that. Nick wasn't giving him a choice.

 

No one had given Nick a choice.

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

Nick stared up at the unassuming building, his hands clenched down on the steering wheel. This all felt familiar and wrong at the same time, acceptable only because it wasn't premeditated. Just because he thought about it a lot, just because he had to resist the temptation every time he got on the road, didn't mean he planned it ahead of time. It was an impulse, one he had to cater to if he wanted to stay sane and not hurt anyone who didn't want to be hurt.

 

Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, Nick climbed out of the car, locking the door behind him. He kept his head down as he approached the receptionist's office, keeping the sunglasses on even though he was inside the building. No eye contact, no credit cards. He couldn't afford to be traced back to the establishment if he ever decided to return to his job.

 

"Next?" Nick glanced up and saw that there was no more line in front of him, and took the final steps to the desk. "Name?"

 

"Elliot Stabler," Nick said, reaching into his pocket for cash. Cash, phony names; the only reason he trusted this place was that all sessions were closely monitored. As long as they didn't know who he really was, Nick didn't care who watched. "Same as before."

 

It made him sick to know that he had a 'normal' 'order' at a place like this, a place he'd told Catherine he'd never want to go to, a lifestyle whose participants Nick had called freaks. And maybe he was a freak, but he had an excuse. What did they have? They were the ones who sold their bodies. Nick just took what was offered.

 

His sunglasses stayed on even as he descended down the stairs, hunching his shoulders against the uneasiness dark, enclosed spaces still gave him. But he didn't have to be afraid here; he was in control. He was a paying customer, not a kidnapping victim. His discomfort was worth it because it made the assault more cathartic.

 

Nick clenched his hands as the door was opened, revealing the basement room to him. The grays of the stone walls were muted by the opacity of his sunglasses, the latex-clad figure in front of him less distinctive. That was the way he wanted it. He didn't want to know who he was hurting; didn't want to see the face of the man suspended from the ceiling like his own personal human punching bag. As Nick approached, though, he noticed there was something wrong with the body.

 

Curves. The body had curves, shapely legs and defined hips, a narrow waist and most importantly, breasts. Nick blew out a disappointed breath because he knew his morning was ruined. He couldn't do this. No matter how much he wanted to punish Walter Gordon's surrogate, he couldn't hit a woman.

 

***

The receptionist's office was empty when Nick returned, so there was no line. For a confused second, he thought there was no receptionist either, until the babyfaced brunette reappeared in the window. "Can I help you?" she asked in a cheerful voice, resting her cheek in her hand.

 

Nick's eyes dropped to the 'no refunds' sign at the corner of the desk. "Yeah, I was wondering if there were any, uh. Men available." Nick internally cringed at his own words. It sounded like he was here for sex. Just like everyone else who came here.

 

"They're all booked," she said perkily, without even looking at the appointment book. "Next?"

 

Nick glanced behind him; no one else was there. "Look, I can't - I didn't get the right thing." Person. Thing. When had they become interchangeable?

 

A long pink nail tapped the sign he'd been looking at earlier. "No refunds."

 

Nick was about to protest when a hand descended on the girl's shoulder. "Lexy, I need you to go check on Donna." The voice was commanding and deep, but clearly a woman's. Nick's stomach sank into his boots. He knew that voice.

 

Ducking his head, Nick raised a hand to check to make sure his sunglasses were still firmly in place, hoping against hope that Gil's anthropologist wouldn't recognize him. She was so insightful it scared Nick sometimes, made him wonder if she was psychic like Pearson. Dead in his living room.

 

He shook himself out of the memory, then found himself looking up into hard, dark eyes. "I take it Donna was not to your liking?"

 

"I..." Nick tried to stutter out the words, wondering belatedly if he should've just booked it out of the room. Heather knew everything, from how much he'd paid to what he'd paid for. There was no point in lying or pretending he was there for some other reason. "I can't hit a woman."

 

"You know you wouldn't be hurting her." Although it was true statement, Heather's tone suggested it was a question. She was asking why Nick couldn't hit the woman even though she was protected the way the men had been.

 

"I just - can't," he admitted. It wasn't logical, maybe it was even sexist, but Nick couldn't make himself hit a woman, couldn't make himself pretend she was Gordon. It was too much of a stretch, too distant from his principles even though he'd been paying to assault helpless men. They were helpless but not hurt, Nick reminded himself, even though he'd been able to smell how they'd gotten off on being pushed around. It made him a little sick at first, but eventually it just became part of the experience. If he didn't want to believe he was hurting Gordon so badly, it would probably make him less guilty knowing they actually enjoyed what he did to them.

 

Heather studied him for a long moment, making Nick squirm on the spot like one of Gil's bugs pinned in place. Then she lifted her hand and Nick flinched back, wondering if she was going to hit him. But she didn't, she just withdrew an envelope from her sleeve. "Take this to the address on the front. Don't open it."

 

Nick took the envelope, trying to make out the address through his sunglasses. He knew the neighborhood; it was just a few blocks from the Erotica Boutique. And even though his face was flaming, Nick tried to pretend he wasn't remembering just how embarrassed he'd been when he had to reveal that he was so familiar with the boutique that he knew their font in order to help solve a case. He hadn't been able to look Gil in the eye for a week.

 

"And Nick?" Nick gulped when Heather used his real name. He looked up, peering at her over the rims of his sunglasses. "Don't let fear of the unknown intimidate you into leaving."

 

***

There was no parking at the building Heather had sent him to, so Nick had to park a block away. By the time he'd locked up and walked back to where the building was, he was starting to have serious doubts about where Heather had sent him.

 

It was a small brick building, an unimpressive single story flanked by some of the hottest clubs in Vegas. It was nothing to look at and had nothing to identify it, not so much as a sign announcing what it was. If Nick hadn't known that he could trust Heather with his career - she'd had plenty of chances to tell Gil about what was going on, after all, and Gil's silence on the matter indicated that she hadn't - he would have turned right around and never come back. As it was, he hesitated before he entered, skeptical about what might be going on in this building in the bright light of the day.

 

The door creaked when he opened it, contributing even more to his doubts. Nick stepped into a room so empty his breathing seemed to echo, the rubber soles of his boots slapping against the polished hardwood. What was this place? Why was he here?

 

The need to know was almost overwhelming. He'd walked into Heather's this morning hoping to work off his aggression, needing to stop feeling like a victim even if it meant pretending he was victimizing someone else. Now, all he wanted to know was why he was here, if what was in the envelope held was worth the hundreds of dollars he'd spent for a fantasy he hadn't even gotten to carry out.

 

There was a desk at the back of the room, covered in cardboard boxes and manned by a somewhat intimidating man Nick had never seen him before. The guy was huge, with arms bigger than Nick's head and a bolt through his eyebrow and one through his lower lip. His head was completely shaved, but he had full-lenth sideburns and a goatee bordering his mouth and chin. Nick checked the envelope again, wondering if he was in the right place.

 

"Elliot!" the man boomed cheerfully, startling Nick into wide-eyed self-consciousness. "Heather said you'd be coming."

 

Nick blinked, taking what he hoped was a surreptitious look around to make sure he was the only person in the room and the guy was, in fact, addressing him. "She - she did?"

 

"Of course." As Nick moved closer, he noticed a nametag on the guy's shirt - Troy. There was no doubt he was in the right place, because Troy was addressing him by the name he'd given at Heather's Dominion. "Club Heather is by personal invitation only. Cover charge is thirty dollars, bracelets are twenty-five each or ten for two hundred."

 

Talk about supplementing her income. So that was why Heather had sent him here. "That's all?" he asked sarcastically, humbling a bit at Troy's unamused glare. "Um, Heather told me to bring this here, so I don't know..."

 

Troy snatched the envelope out of his hands, slitting it open with a key he picked up from one of the boxes. "Ah, so you're already paid up at the Dominion. No charge, then. Just tell me what you like."

 

"What - what I like?"

 

"How else am I going to know what bracelets to give you?"

 

Nick was starting to get the feeling that Heather hadn't given him a fair trade for his money. "Why would I want bracelets?"

 

Troy sighed heavily. He seemed rather pained by Nick's obvious thickheadedness. "The same reason everyone else wears bracelets. So they know what you're into and you know what they're into." Nick stared blankly. "Okay, let's start easy. Are you into men or women?"

 

Heather knew he didn't want sex. Why had she sent him to a sex club? "I'm not here for sex."

 

"Ahhh." Troy rummaged around in one of the boxes, triumphantly pulling out a clear bracelet. "Asexual," he pronounced.

 

"What? No," Nick said defensively. "I have sex, just not - that's..." Why was he telling a complete stranger about his sex life? "I mean, I'm just not - looking for that right now."

 

Troy nodded in understanding, dropping the bracelet back in the box and picking up the key he'd used to slit open the envelope. At least, it looked like the same key. When Nick peered into the box, he could see that there were what looked like hundreds of the same key, all attached to an elastic string. "Then you'll definitely want this one. It's our most popular."

 

Nick took the bracelet, looking at it skeptically. Well, Heather must have sent him here for a reason, and at least he wouldn't be broadcasting his sexual preferences. He was relieved that this was the most popular bracelet, that the other members - who were here by Heather's personal invitation - weren't all looking for sex. Although if they'd all come from the Dominion, Nick wasn't sure he wanted to meet the other people who'd paid for fantasies that hadn't worked out for them. People like himself.

 

"Your right wrist," Troy said, making Nick look up. "Left wrist's for who you're into, right wrist's for what you're into. Right wrist," he repeated. Nick shook his head, baffled, but he switched the bracelet to his right wrist. Who, what he was into? If he wasn't here for sex, why would that matter? "Now, are you into men or women?"

 

"I..." Women, his father's voice said in his head. Nick cringed. "Men," he said determinedly. It wasn't like his father was here, or that he'd see anyone he knew. Even if he did, they weren't any more innocent than he was.

 

"Do you care what they look like?"

 

"Huh?" What kind of question was that?

 

"Do you have a preference for size or coloring?" Troy asked as casually as if he were asking Nick what he'd had for breakfast. Nick cleared his throat. His partners had only ever been white, but he wasn't going to wear a bracelet to broadcast that.

 

"Uh, no. I don't care."

 

Troy picked through the bracelets, but he didn't stop when he had one, or even two. He finally handed Nick three blue bracelets, each of a different thickness. "Left wrist," Troy reminded him, and Nick slipped on all three bracelets. Bracelets for asexuality, nonsexual relationships, sex, skin color and body size - Heather's club catered to all kinds of preferences. "Any medical conditions or deformities?" Nick shook his head. "Now, assuming you're going to have sex at some point..." Nick squirmed uncomfortably. Why was he still here? "What would your role be?"

 

"Um, what?"

 

"You know," Troy said, and Nick shook his head. He had no idea. "Are you a top, bottom, dominant, submissive, sadist, masochist? Any kinks?"

 

Damn. They really did cater to all preferences. "I guess dominant," he finally said. After all, he'd been going to Heather's to dominate people; hurt them, really, which he guessed made him a sadist, but if sex was involved, then no, Nick wasn't a sexual sadist. Just a violent one who liked to feel like he was in control of one part of his life when so often he felt like a victim.

 

After some more rummaging, Troy came up with some green bracelets, each a different shade. He finally handed Nick the darkest one, dropping all but one back into the box. "You might want this one, too," Troy said, "since it's your first time here."

 

Nick stared at the medium green bracelet, a blush rising up his neck. Green was what they called the horses that weren't broken back in Texas. Green. Inexperienced. "I'm not..." A virgin, he thought. He was being branded a virgin.

 

"Nobody here is, honey," Troy said, the big, intimidating man behind the desk calling him 'honey'. Nick blinked. Troy was either being extremely sarcastic, or he was hitting on Nick. Nick hoped it was the former. "You into anything else?"

 

Nick looked down at his wrists, three on the left, three on the right. Add that to the cover charge, and he wasn't even halfway to what Heather owed him. Or maybe he wouldn't have to pay the cover charge next time, either. "What else do you have?"

 

"Handjobs, blowjobs, fucking, rimming, breathplay, watersports, scat, leather, whipping, biting, marking, bloodplay, roleplay..."

 

Holy shit. They really did have a bracelet for everything. "I think I'll pass," Nick said dryly. He'd use his credit for his next session at Heather's, and he'd make a reservation beforehand to make sure it was a man. "What now?"

 

Troy lifted a large hand, his fingers weighed down with rings, bracelets covering his arm from wrist to elbow. Nick didn't even want to know what all of them meant. "Right through that door, then take the stairs down. Drinks are on the house."

 

Nick nodded, rounding the desk toward the door, and looked back to thank Troy. That was when he noticed that Troy was in a wheelchair, his legs nothing but stumps cut off at the knees. Nick held back a sympathetic frown; Troy obviously didn't want to draw any attention to it. "Thanks," he muttered, reaching for the doorknob.

 

"Ain't nothin'," Troy muttered back, making Nick smile. The guy wasn't self-conscious in the least. Ducking his head, Nick pulled open the door, stunned by the suddenness and volume of the pounding music. "Close the door," Troy said sternly, reminding Nick suddenly of Heather. So he obeyed.

 

***

In square footage, the downstairs had to be at least twice the size of the ground level. Maybe three times. Nick stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the rail, and just took everything in.

 

The club was packed. Within a few feet of the stairs there were sofas and chairs, all occupied by people talking to each other or watching the dance floor, which was packed with as many people as there were bracelets in the boxes upstairs. On the opposite side of the club, there were tables, square kitchen-sized tables in the middle, tall cafe-style tables lining the walls, and a bar on farthest wall, complete with barstools and patrons. The tables weren't nearly as packed as the dancefloor, so Nick headed that way, ordering a beer from the bar before he took a seat at a table for two. No reason to sit at a big table that would invite strangers to sit with him.

 

He put his feet up on the opposite chair to discourage anyone from sitting with him. Heather's clients obviously came here to socialize, either to meet people with matching bracelets and interests or to get something out of this that they couldn't get at the Dominion. Nick wasn't much of a clubgoer, but even he knew this was no typical club. It certainly wasn't like any of the clubs he'd ever been to, but he wouldn't have expected anything else of an establishment owned by Heather.

 

Nick still didn't know why Heather had sent him here. Presumably, it was to make up for the money he'd paid for a service that hadn't been fulfilled, but how was he supposed to get the kind of satisfaction and relief he needed from anyone here? They were all strangers, personal guests - clients - of Heather. They weren't her employees, weren't trained in taking whatever Nick wanted to dole out and there certainly wasn't the security he knew was at the Dominion. The people who came here socialized with others, and eventually, Nick assumed, a lot of them went home with someone they'd met. There were probably back rooms, too, for anyone who couldn't wait to get out of the club.

 

Was there a bracelet for one-night stands? What about a bracelet for people like Nick who didn't want to talk, just wanted to figure out why the hell he was there? He knew there was a bracelet for submissives, for masochists, but he didn't know what those bracelets looked like. If he found someone who'd let him do what Heather's employees did, could they go back to the Dominion and rent one of the rooms so Nick could give the beating he needed to give?

 

It wasn't long before Nick felt someone watching him, eyes on his wrists to see what he was into. Nick suddenly felt self-conscious, wanted to hide his wrists, not let anyone see his bracelets, but what was he here for if not to find someone who could be what he needed?

 

The guy was young-looking, probably in his mid-twenties. His hair was short, uniform length all around, as if he'd shaved his head like Nick had a few years ago and had been letting it grow out for a few weeks. He had a long face, with narrow lips and dark eyes. Nick watched as he approached, not removing his feet from the chair.

 

"Hey," the guy said, not even looking at Nick's feet on the chair. He held out a hand with several bracelets, but the one that caught Nick's eye was a bicolored bracelet, half pink and half green. It was the green half that Nick noticed, because it was the same green as the dominant bracelet he'd been given. "I'm Ray."

 

Nick crossed his arms over his chest, not in the mood to shake hands. He wasn't here with good intentions and he wasn't looking for a relationship. Ray wasn't wearing a key bracelet, which meant he was looking for sex. Nick wasn't looking for sex, either. "What do you want, Ray," he said flatly, hoping to get the guy to go away.

 

"You're a dominant, right?" Nick didn't answer, just continued to stare at the guy. Ray squirmed a bit, then reached down with his other hand. He was adjusting himself. Nick couldn't tell whether he'd already been turned on, or if Nick's impolite behavior was turning him on. He should've known he'd meet strange people here. "Well, see?" Ray pointed to the pink bracelet next to his bicolored one. "So I thought..."

 

Pink. Ray had figured out that he was dominant. So the pink bracelet must mean Ray was submissive. Nick shook his head and held up his right wrist, pointing to the key bracelet.

 

"So let's talk," Ray said enthusiastically. "We can get to know each other and then maybe..."

 

Nick had an almost overwhelming urge to ask if he could beat the crap out of Ray, but that was stepping over the line so soon. Nick wasn't even comfortable here yet. "I don't want to get to know you," Nick said firmly, shaking his head and looking down at the table. This was a bad idea. He should've just made an appointment and waited for that.

 

Ray looked terribly confused. "Then what do you want?"

 

"You wanna know what I want, Ray?" Nick sighed. He couldn't say it out loud. Couldn't scare this kid away. Besides, he'd already seen the guy's face. The guys at Heather's always had a mask on. Nick shook his head.

 

"Uh, yeah," Ray said. "What do you want?"

 

"Nothing," Nick said, dropping his feet and pushing up from the table. "I don't want anything."

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

  
Author's notes: Nick makes a break through.  


* * *

Nick didn't know what he'd been thinking. He couldn't reserve a person at Heather's. That would be tantamount to premeditation, and not doing so was the only reason he'd allowed himself to do it in the first place. At long as it was spontaneous, out of momentary rage, it was - okay? It was okay? Why was it okay? When had hurting people, even if only artificially, become okay again?

 

Again. Nick hung up the phone, and dropped his head into his hands. It hadn't been fake the first time, when he'd been in middle school. Between pressure from his fathers and brothers to be tough and the humiliation of having been molested by his babysitter - female babysitter - and he hadn't wanted it - what boy didn't want a female's physical attention, no matter how young he was? What kind of boy? - he'd been a bully in middle school. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately - there had been bullies who were bigger and stronger than he was, and Nick had stopped bullying just so he wouldn't have to go home with bruises anymore. As angry as he'd been as a little kid, Nick had been smart enough to realize that if he didn't like the bigger kids picking on him, didn't deserve it, then the smaller kids didn't want or deserve to be picked on by Nick.

 

He'd been troubled as a kid, and it was all coming back to him again. Nick had a feeling he wouldn't have reacted as badly if he'd had a normal childhood - whatever that was - but Nick had felt like a victim all his life. From the time he'd been nine years old and an older girl had taken advantage of him to the time a female suspect had put a gun in his face, from the time Kristy had so easily seduced him to now, when the love for his daughter had made Walter Gordon decide to kidnap him and put him six feet under. It was a wonder Nick wouldn't let himself hit a woman after all they'd done to him. Maybe it wasn't principles that kept him from doing it. Maybe it was fear that he'd let go even more than he did with the men and end up doing some serious damage despite the precautions that were taken.

 

When was the last time he'd been in control of his life? Of himself? When had he been confident in the decisions he'd made for himself, and when was the last time he'd trusted someone, be it himself or another person?

 

When he'd been in the ground, that was when. When Gil had put his hand on top of Nick's and made him listen, made him promise not to move. He'd trusted Gil and for that, he'd been allowed to live.

 

As for confidence, Warrick's hand had given him that. Gil's calm words and Warrick's steady hand had given Nick the confidence to stay where he was, to trust in the team that they'd be able to save his life. Nick hadn't been in control at all in that moment; not in control of what was happening, of why he was in the situation when he was in, but the team's instructions and support had given Nick the control he needed over himself to stay and wait where he was instead of endangering himself further. Nick had never made that connection between control and trust before, but in that context, it made perfect sense. Being in control at that specific moment hadn't been about being sadistic or dominant; it had been about controlling his own impulses and resisting that urge to stand up and walk away, because doing so would have blown him up.

 

Maybe control wasn't what he'd thought it was. And maybe, instead of laying around feeling sorry for himself and taking out his frustration on other people when it got too hard, maybe he needed to start being around people again, people he trusted with his life. If he could trust them with his life, he had to be able to trust them with his broken spirit, too. If he let them talk to him again, if he let them hold his hand, if he let himself lean on someone else and not try to do it all on his own, maybe he could start to mend what had been broken so long ago, longer than those brief months ago when he'd been buried alive. This wasn't something that had just started with Walter Gordon; Nick's sense of self had been slowly degrading all his life.

 

It was time for a change. Nick picked up the phone again, but instead of dialing Heather's, he dialed the crime lab. "Hey, Gil? I think I'm ready to come back to work."

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

  
Author's notes: Nick tries to sleep.  


* * *

He couldn't go back right away. The drill was familiar, even though he hadn't taken such a long leave before; psych evaluation and paperwork, piles and piles of paperwork. At least he knew Gordon was dead; Nick hated that Gil had had to watch that, see a man kill himself. Gil had never done anything to deserve that.

 

Nick had almost seen a guy blow his head off once; his own stalker, Nigel Crane, right after he'd killed Pearson. Nick had tried to talk him out of it; his duty, his job, even though the guy had been stalking him for months, for reasons Nick still couldn't fathom. The fact that Crane hadn't gone through with it didn't mean Nick hadn't seen it in his head a million times, in the middle of the night at work, in the middle of the day in his nightmares.

 

After all he'd been through on this job, it was a wonder Nick hadn't packed up and headed back home with his tail between his legs years ago. But he'd stuck with, for reasons no clearer to him than Crane's reasons for wanting to become him. Why would someone want to become Nick Stokes? Nick Stokes didn't want to be Nick Stokes. Then again, the guy wasn't exactly sane.

 

It would be easy to think that duty had kept him here, except he had a duty to his family, too, and Nick wasn't exactly rushing home. He didn't miss it. He didn't miss them.

 

So it had to be the people. It had to be the people that had kept him here, even after everything he'd been through. The people who had been there for him through everything over the last ten years, and Nick found himself wondering if one of them might be willing to be there for him now. It was two in the afternoon, though, so most of them would be asleep, or well on the way there, since everyone had been moved back to the grave shift.

 

Nick didn't know what he was going to do for the rest of the day. Over the past couple of months, he'd gone back to sleeping at night and being awake during the day. Before he went back to work, he'd have to readjust his sleep schedule.

 

Since none of the people he wanted to talk to were awake, Nick resolved to start today. He still had plenty of sleeping pills left over, so he took two, and went to bed. Hopefully, he'd be able to sleep.

 

***

The label warned him not to take the pills unless he had eight full hours to devote to sleep, but when Nick cracked his eyes open and turned his head to face the digital clock on his nightstand, it was only eight o'clock. He'd gotten barely six hours of sleep, too much to take more pills, not enough to start showing up at his coworker's homes so they could keep him company.

 

There was only one thing to do. Nick couldn't believe he was going back, mere hours after he'd stormed away, but his state of mind had changed significantly since then. Nick didn't know if it was still open, but knowing Heather and Heather's business, the club would be open twenty-four hours a day. And if he was lucky, he'd learn more about the bracelets, and maybe find someone to talk to who'd had a similar experience to his - or better yet, could take his mind off everything that had been weighing him down.

 

Troy wasn't at the front desk anymore when Nick arrived, so he had to explain that he was paid up at the Dominion, and had to wait for the guy to look through Troy's notes to verify it. The new guy was slight and dark-skinned, about half Troy's size and not nearly as interesting. Nick didn't take any more bracelets, just wore the ones he'd gotten that morning, and slipped through the door as casually as if he came here every day.

 

What astounded him most about the club was the sheer volume of people. As many as there had been that morning, and knowing that people had to sleep, eat, work, and do things other than spend their lives at a club, this could only be a fraction of the members. While the number of patrons wasn't unusually large compared to that in clubs Nick had seen before, the astounding part was that each and every one of them, if Troy was telling the truth, had been personally invited by Heather. That was a lot of personal invitations for a single person to give, and even if Heather had proxies to act on her behalf and invite clients to the club, there were still an amazing number of people for a club as hidden and exclusive as Nick was inclined to believe it was.

 

Nick didn't wander so far from the dance floor this time. He was hungry for human interaction, observation, conversation. Even if he didn't do any more than watch, it was better than being alone.

 

It wasn't long before someone approached, gesturing toward the chair next to Nick. Nick shrugged and smiled politely, indicating the chair with his hand. "It's free."

 

"Thanks." The man pulled out the chair with his left hand as he offered his right to Nick, shaking enthusiastically when Nick accepted his hand. "Name's Abe," he said, causing Nick to raise his eyebrows. He was tempted to ask if Abe was as in Lincoln, but he suspected that half the people there used phony names. Something else he'd have to get used to.

 

"Abe," he smiled, sitting back in his chair. "Name's Elliot." Abe had five bracelets on his right wrist. The only one Nick recognized was the pink one.

 

"Nice to meet you, Elliot." Abe caught Nick looking at the pink bracelet and hooked his finger through it, holding it out to show Nick. "You like this one, huh?"

 

Nick grinned self-consciously, ignoring the blush creeping up his neck. "It's the only one I know," he admitted, holding up his right arm to show off both green bracelets. "Means you're submissive, right?" Nick didn't actually know completely what that meant beyond the dictionary definition. Sure, he knew what it meant in Heather's realm, the person who took the role of submission in some scenario, but there was no scenario and without that context, Nick didn't know what was expected of him or of the submissive. He wasn't here for sex, anyway, so for the moment, it didn't matter.

 

"Yeah," Abe chuckled, reaching out to run a finger over Nick's medium green bracelet. Nick quelled the instinct to flinch, reminding himself that Abe was here for reasons other than his own and if he got too uncomfortable, he could say something. "You really are new here, huh?"

 

Nick nodded, starting to wonder just how much he was supposed to know. He'd chosen the dominant bracelet on a whim, but he was starting to think it implied more than he'd realized. "Yeah. Just tryin' to meet some new people." That was more polite than saying he wanted to be around any people, and at least he wasn't leading the guy on. He wasn't here for more than talking and he wasn't going to pretend he was. Maybe he should've taken the asexual bracelet, at least for his first few visits.

 

It surprised him to realize he was thinking about coming back after today, but before he could think too much about it, he heard Abe talking again. "Yeah, that's cool. I can tell you what the rest of them mean, if you want." Nick nodded. "Dark red one's for biting, black and blue one's for masochism, tan's for exhibitionism, and yellow's for watersports." Abe smiled. Nick kind of wanted to throw up.

 

Biting and masochism and exhibitionism he could stomach. Exhibitionism might even be kind of interesting to watch. But watersports - in a club like this, they weren't talking about the kind of water you found in a stream. "Oh," he finally said, trying to think of a polite way to bolt from the table. He really didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to picture it and he didn't want to figure out why someone liked that. It was just - disgusting.

 

"Not into that, huh," Abe said sympathetically, and Nick nodded, not really trusting that his voice would come out instead of vomit. Nick tried to be an open-minded kind of guy, but he didn't even want to try to wrap his mind around that. He didn't want his mind anywhere near that.

 

Nick pressed his hands flat against the table, more than half ready to get up and leave. It didn't seem right, though, to let one image make him walk away from a place where he might meet other people who had something in common with him, just because one person was into something disgusting. Probably more than one, but even in this group, Nick doubted it was all that popular. He just had the bad luck to attract this guy in the first place. With any luck, he wouldn't meet any more clubgoers with yellow bracelets.

 

That wasn't the thought that was keeping him there, though. It was Heather's commanding voice, words of wisdom from a woman with more life experience than Nick. Don't let fear of the unknown intimidate you into leaving.

 

Nick had talked to people who'd done worse things. He'd interrogated suspects who'd used, abused, tortured, kidnapped, raped, maimed, murdered people, some who'd been apologetic, but most who'd bragged about their actions. That had to be worse than someone who got off on being pissed on, and as long as Abe wasn't asking Nick to participate, there was no reason for him to look at Abe like less than a person.

 

"Not into any of it, really," Nick finally said, forcing himself to relax and drop his hands from the table. See, he told himself, there are people more screwed up than you. He decided to treat it like an interview with a suspect or a witness, and wash his hands the minute he found a faucet. Or a hose. Or some rain. "So, that means," he said, pointing in the general direction of the black-and-blue bracelet, hoping to steer the conversation in a safer direction. "You're a masochist?"

 

"I like pain? Yeah. That's why it's black and blue."

 

He liked pain. This morning, the idea would've been appealing to him, but now it wasn't. That just went to show how much had changed in the last few hours. "Clever," he said in an attempt at humor, but it just came off as humoring the guy.

 

"Yeah," Abe murmured, tilting his head at Nick. After a moment, he pushed up from the table, giving Nick a small wave instead of shaking his hand. That was a relief. "I gotta go," Abe said flatly, and Nick had to laugh. He'd just been rejected and he couldn't be happier.

 

***

 

After thoroughly washing his hands, Nick took off his bracelets, putting them all in his pockets. He didn't want to attract any more attention tonight, especially from someone like Abe. Not that Nick was one to judge, but, well, he was judging. He couldn't help it. There were just some things a guy didn't want to know.

 

When Troy had explained the bracelets to him, Nick couldn't imagine why anyone would want to broadcast their interests on their arms, but now Nick could see that it served a purpose. Sure, if he was still into one-night stands, it wouldn't have hurt anything if they'd slept together and he'd never found out, but ever since Kristy, Nick had been reluctant to get close to anyone. Which meant that his sex life had been nearly nonexistant, and that in hopes of having a sex life, he'd spent months and once, almost a year trying to get to know potential partners well enough that he trusted it was safe to have sex with them, only to learn that they weren't compatible in some way or another. If all of his potential partners' idiosyncracies had been displayed from the beginning, Nick would have saved himself a lot of time and effort and disappointment.

 

Which begged the question as to whether there was anyone who could be what he wanted. There were bracelets for sexual preferences but not for trustworthiness, not for someone's potential to be a thief or murderer, but those were things no one would wear a bracelet for, anyway. At least with sex, preferences for gender and roles could be expressed, and the only people who would reject you were those who weren't interested in what you were interested in anyway, and in the long run, the revelation of some of those interests if not shared in the beginning could ruin a relationship.

 

Nick would rather know now than later. At least that way, he wouldn't waste his time or feelings on someone he wasn't compatible with. It got one major obstacle of relationships out of the way from the very beginning, leaving time for other, more important discoveries about a relationship and a potential partner. With the bracelets, Nick knew who to avoid and who to approach, when and if he was interested in approaching someone again. And until then, he could be comfortable not being interested in anyone at all.

 

***

 

The dynamics of the club had Nick wondering about the people he passed on the sidewalk, the other drivers and passengers he drove by when he got back into the Tahoe. Once again, he didn't know where he was going, and as usual, his mind was somewhere other than the road. What were they hiding, these strangers, or even his friends and coworkers, what secrets were they hiding under the guise of everyday life? Which of them wanted to dominate their partners and which ones wanted to submit? Which of them wanted an equal partnership where no one was in control, where sex was an act of love instead of a game and which of them wanted both?

 

Nick found himself asking questions he'd never considered asking, and he had to admit that the questions were much easier on his tired brain than when he'd been constantly wondering when he'd next get a chance for pretend revenge.

 

He knew his destination when he found himself pulling into a familiar driveway; it was Warrick's house. Of course. Warrick who'd talked to him like Gil when he'd shown up at the lab last night, Warrick who, unlike Gil, had tried to comfort him with an embrace. Maybe Warrick would have another hug to offer tonight, a reminder that he wasn't along before Warrick had to leave for work and Nick had to spend another night alone. Not for long now, though, and Nick thanked his sanity for kicking in long enough to get him to realize he needed to go back to work, to doing the job he was meant to do.

 

It was dark outside, almost ten, but Nick could see some of the lights on in Warrick's house. That had to mean he was awake, getting ready for work, which gave Nick about an hour to spend time with his friend.

 

Assuming he'd be leaving first, Nick parked near the street, then went up to the front door and rang the doorbell. It was several minutes before Warrick opened the door wearing nothing but a bathrobe, the hair on his head and chest weighed down with water. He must've just gotten out of the shower.

 

"Sorry," Nick said with a sheepish smile. "I can, uh, come back another time."

 

"Nah, it's cool," Warrick assured him, flashing a lazy smile that put Nick's stomach in knots. Damn, but Warrick's smile had never had that kind of effect on him before. "Just gimme a minute to get dressed."

 

"Yeah." Nick let out a confused sigh once Warrick had left, suddenly tired as he dragged himself to the sofa in Warrick's living room. It was a comfortable sofa, one he could picture himself falling asleep on on the spot if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't here to sleep.

 

Nick didn't know what was happening to him. He and Warrick had been friends for almost ten years and never once had he felt an attraction, but a moment ago, he had. It had to be a fluke; if there was the possibility of anything between them, it would've happened long ago. Right? Nick nodded to himself; it had to just be a fluke. A lot of things had changed in the last twenty-four hours and his imagined attraction to Warrick was just another one.

 

Nevertheless, he still felt nervous when he heard footfalls in the kitchen. Mentally preparing to act and speak normally, Nick turned to face Warrick, his composure disappearing as his jaw started to drop.

 

"Nick." Warrick's voice came out of nowhere, and Nick jumped, looking between the woman in the kitchen and his coworker with his arm around her. Warrick was dressed now, ready for work, and the woman in his arms was wearing a bathrobe that matched the one Warrick had had on a few minutes ago. Warrick was beaming. "I've told you about Tina, right?"

 

***

Had Warrick mentioned Tina? Maybe, but if he had, it wasn't within the last two months. Nick would've remembered that. "Yeah, I think so." If Warrick thought he told him, he was probably right. Nick just had a hard time remembering much of anything that had happened before he'd been kidnapped, except for the traumatic situations he'd been in. Tina was exchanging a look with Warrick, the couple conversing silently with their eyes, and before they could start pitying him, Nick remembered his manners and joined them in the kitchen, offering his hand to Tina. "Tina, it's nice to meet you."

 

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, finally," she said with a kind smile, her grip firmer than Nick would've expected. She was a beautiful woman, small and delicate next to Warrick but her handshake was anything but. "Warrick's had nothing but good things to say about you."

 

Surprised that Warrick would talk to his girlfriend about him, Nick glanced over to see Warrick grinning, a barely visible blush coloring his face or maybe it was Nick's imagination. Nick couldn't decide whether to be flattered that Warrick had been saying good things about him to his girlfriend or disappointed that there was a girlfriend at all. Then again, she was probably just being polite. Warrick probably hadn't said much about him at all. "Thanks," he said, dropping his hand as he looked at Tina again. "I uh, I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I can come back some other time," he offered.

 

"No, it's fine," Tina insisted pleasantly, turning to Warrick. "I'll just go finish my shower," she said softly, leaning up to kiss Warrick before she slipped away. Nick ducked his head, trying not to think about what they'd obviously been doing in the shower instead of washing. Mostly because it was an image he enjoyed a little too much to be thinking about while Warrick was still standing there.

 

They stood awkwardly for a few minutes, Warrick clearly as self-conscious as Nick was. Warrick was the one to move first, offering Nick a cup of coffee before they moved into the living room. "It's fine," Warrick insisted before Nick could apologize again. "I have to head to work soon anyway."

 

"Yeah, about that." It was a relief to be able to change the subject. Nick took a calming breath and looked up at his friend, trying to forget about the Tina-related stuff that had been thrown at him over the past few minutes and focus on why he was here. "I wanted to let you know I'll be coming back to work in a few weeks." Was that why he'd driven here without even knowing where he'd been going until he'd gotten there? It made sense. "They have to work out a bunch of paperwork and stuff, but I'll be back soon. And they're putting me back on grave," he finished with a smile.

 

"I know," Warrick replied, surprising him. How did Warrick know? "After we got you outta there, Gris told Ecklie he wanted his guys back. It wasn't like Ecklie could say no."

 

Huh. Nick hadn't been expecting that. "So that's why you and Cath are back on grave, too," he realized. He'd hated moving to swing shift, leaving behind Gil and Archie and Sara and Greg and even Hodges. He might've had an attitude, but for the most part, Nick knew it was a defense mechanism. Hodges was hardly the most secure guy Nick had ever met, and he'd missed getting to verbally spar with him at work. The only thing that had made swing bearable was that Warrick and Catherine had been there with him, too. "So Gil said he wanted his guys back," Nick murmured, the thought making him inexplicably pleased. He'd always looked up to Gil as a supervisor and mentor figure, and when he'd been in that box, talking into that tape, he'd left a message for Gil from what he'd thought was his grave, apologizing for letting him down. He must not've let Gil down too much, though, if Gil wanted him back.

 

"Yeah," Warrick confirmed, his voice low and comforting. Nick took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Gil still trusted him as a CSI even though he'd let himself be kidnapped, even though he'd watched Nick fall apart on the web. Warrick's hand squeezed his shoulder, a concerned expression on his face when Nick looked at him. "What is it?"

 

Nick shook his head, taking another deep breath. "I was just thinking about the tape," he explained. "Not the one you all saw, but the one I was talking to." Nick took another deep breath, conscious of the way his nostrils were flaring like they did when he got upset, but he forced himself to look at Warrick anyway. "That's evidence, that was evidence. Did everyone - who listened to it?"

 

"Shhh," Warrick said soothingly, rubbing a hand from one side of Nick's back to the other. It felt so good he just wanted to sink into it, let Warrick hold him and pretend there was no Tina in the shower. "No one listened to it. You were safe, the perp was dead. There was no reason to listen to it." Warrick had tugged Nick against his chest by now, and Nick allowed it, trying to steady his breathing. "You're the only one who knows what's on that tape."

 

The only one. His parents hadn't listened to him say he loved them one last time, the rest of the team hadn't heard him say he loved them for the first time. There was a time to be a tough and there was a time to realize you were going to die, that it was your last chance to tell the people you cared about that you cared about them. The team hadn't heard him say that they were like family to him, Gil hadn't heard him say that he'd hoped to never disappoint him. And Walter Gordon had never heard him forgive his unknown, at the time, captor.

 

Nick had forgotten about that. He'd forgotten his last-ditch attempt at goodness, forgiving the person who would be responsible for his death so that he could go into the afterlife without any regrets. Judge not that ye shall not be judged, and go toward the light, hope that there's a heaven or a hell because if there was nothing after this then Nick's whole life would've been a waste.

 

Let go and let God. Or in this case, let go and let Warrick, because Nick was letting go for the first time since he'd gotten out of the hospital, getting Warrick's shirt wet but Warrick still held him, rubbing his back the way his mother had after he'd fallen off his bike as a kid. No one had held him after he'd been raped, but that was because he hadn't told anyone about it until Catherine, and they were in the middle of the crime lab so even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't have. There was a time to be tough and there was a time to let go, and Nick knew they'd all needed this at some point, Catherine after Eddie had been killed, Sara and Greg after the explosion in the lab, and Nick more times than he could count. And now, finally, Warrick was giving it to him, and all Nick could do was accept it.

 

He wanted more, he wanted so much more, but Warrick had to go to work and he deserved a chance to talk to his girlfriend before he did. Nick finally pulled away, wiping at his face before he looked up at Warrick, steadily slowing his breathing until he trusted himself to talk again. "I should let you get ready for work," he said firmly, making himself get up from the couch. Because as good as it felt, he couldn't impose on Warrick anymore than he already had.

 

"Are you sure?" Warrick asked. "I could call in, we could stay here and talk," he offered. Nick shook his head. As good as that sounded, he couldn't take advantage of Warrick like that. Warrick had a life, a job, a girlfriend, and if Nick didn't leave now, he wouldn't ever want to leave.

 

"I'm fine," he insisted, sighing at Warrick's stern look. "Okay, I'm not fine. But I'm better, and I'll live." It was probably the most honest he'd been with himself in months. It was like taking a weight off his shoulders, actually. He could breathe easier now. "I'll live," he said again, flashing a crooked smile at Warrick. "We'll talk sometime, just the two of us." Nick actually meant it this time. He didn't let Warrick argue, though; he walked to the door and opened it to make his point, watching Warrick shake his head with an amused smile. They were going to be all right. Nick was going to be all right. Everything was starting to fall back in place again.

 

It was late when Nick got home, and even though he'd slept through the afternoon, he was still exhausted. It had been an emotionally trying day for him, and this time, he didn't need any sleeping pills. He gave into his body's demands by going straight to bed, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes: Nick adds to his bracelet collection.  


* * *

He slept for a solid twelve hours, well into the late morning and was determined to stay up as long as he could. Since his coworkers were all asleep, Nick decided to spend the afternoon at the club, this time planning to find a bracelet that would attract fewer submissives and more simple folk like Nick.

 

"Do you have one for regular sex?"

 

Troy frowned at Nick, his objection to the expression obvious. "Define regular sex," he challenged. Nick faltered a bit, then decided to just go with what he knew.

 

"Well, you know - just regular sex. No dominant, submissive stuff, nothing kinky, just straight sex." Nick chuckled when Troy looked pointedly at the blue bracelets on his left wrist. "You know what I mean."

 

Troy looked a little skeptical, but he conceded the point, digging through one box and then a second. "You know, we don't get many people looking for regular sex here," he commented. "You sure you're not asexual? I got plenty of those."

 

Nick laughed. "Yeah, pretty sure." Considering his reaction to the dream he'd woken up from where he'd been watching Warrick and Tina shower together, there was no doubt about it. "Just not in a relationship right now." It was probably a good thing Tina had been there, because if she hadn't, Nick probably would've gotten the wrong idea from Warrick's hug and tried to turn it into a kiss. Which would be fine if he didn't know for sure by now that Warrick was clearly into women. Nick knew that just because Warrick liked women didn't mean he couldn't like men - Nick had certainly been attracted to the ocassional woman himself, but not nearly as often as he'd been attracted to men - but all the evidence suggested that Warrick was pretty straight.

 

"Here we go."

 

"White?" That was pretty boring, as far as colors went, but then, he interested in what most people here would consider boring sex.

 

Troy rolled his eyes, reached into another box, and held up another bracelet next to the first one. "No, this is white." Nick leaned closer, taking off his sunglasses to get a better look at the two bracelets next to each other. Compared to the second, the first one was clearly off-white. The difference wasn't as easy to see with his sunglasses on. Troy sighed. "Vanilla."

 

Nick took the offered bracelet, shaking his head at himself. "Of course," he muttered. "Why didn't I think of that?" Because what was the opposite of kink if not vanilla?

 

"Beats me," Troy muttered sarcastically, making Nick grin. Troy looked up at him suspiciously. "What are you smiling about?"

 

"Trust me, I have no idea." Nick slipped on the vanilla bracelet, then removed the dark green one. He couldn't be vanilla and dominant at the same time. Could he?

 

Troy was rolling his eyes, obviously unamused, and that just amused Nick even more. Maybe he had a thing for sarcasm. He was pretty sure there wasn't a bracelet for that.

 

Since his encounter the previous night, Nick would've thought he'd know more about what Troy's bracelets meant, but Troy didn't have anything pink or green or dark red or black and blue or yellow. He did have an orange one, but Nick was hesitant to ask what it meant. He had a feeling he might not like the answer, and he wanted to keep liking Troy.

 

What Nick didn't understand was how Troy was ever able to go down in the club. Nick hadn't seen any ramps or elevators, which wasn't unusual for typical clubs but Nick would've expected Heather to accomodate her employees. Troy was obviously interested in what went on downstairs, since he wore all those bracelets. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

 

"I'm taken," Troy muttered without looking up. Nick grinned.

 

"Damn," he said, mostly for Troy's benefit. He wasn't planning to hit on the guy, but obviously Troy was being sarcastic again. "Actually, I was wondering how you get down to the club. Is there a ramp in the back or something?"

 

Troy looked up at him this time, his gaze more suspicious than before. "You know, I've been a receptionist here for fifteen years, and only one other person has ever asked me that."

 

"Really?" Nick couldn't imagine that he was only the second person in fifteen years to ask about Troy's ability to get downstairs. He also wanted to snicker at Troy calling himself a receptionist, but Troy obviously didn't think it was funny, and Nick wasn't about to offend him even if Troy couldn't defend himself from his chair.

 

"Really," Troy said. "Most people don't even notice, and the ones that do are too embarrassed to say anything about it." Troy shrugged. "I've gotten used to it."

 

"But you go to the club sometimes, right?" He had to, if he was wearing all those bracelets. They were too specific for Troy to choose bracelets at random and the club was too exclusive for Troy to be wearing them for advertisment.

 

"Yup," Troy said with a nod. "Tony carries me an' Han carries my chair." Nick opened his mouth to ask who Tony and Han were, then thought better of it and closed his mouth. Troy would tell him if he wanted to share. "Tony an' Han're my husbands."

 

Mentally, Nick's jaw dropped, but he kept control of his facial expression. "Really," he muttered. Well, if a guy could have seven wives, Nick guessed another guy could have two husbands. "You didn't strike me as a mormon."

 

Troy laughed out loud, a room-filling booming laugh, then waved him off. "Get on downstairs before I gotta beat your ass," he ordered, making Nick laugh again. Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much.

 

"Yes sir," he said with a wink, then braced himself for the music he knew was on the other side of the door, and whatever today's patrons had to offer.

 

***

Over the next two weeks, Nick spent a lot of time at the club, socializing with strangers when his friends were at work - not asleep, because he'd finally managed to stay up until ten in the morning. Only one hour to go if he wanted to be able to stay up for the whole graveyard shift, five hours if he wanted to go back to the sleep schedule he'd had a year ago - but that was negotiable. The important thing was that he'd be able to be alert when he got back to work, and he'd actually been cleared to go back, too.

 

Nick started wearing the dominant bracelet next to the vanilla one, just because it was interesting to see people's reactions. They weren't quite sure what to think, and approached him more cautiously, more often than not earning confused glances from observers who never approached at all. A vanilla dominant? It had to be a mistake. Or an intentional oxymoron, and Nick got great pleasure out of shocking the oh-so-kinky crowd at Club Heather.

 

Fourteen days after his first visit to the club, inspired by his fantasies about Warrick and Tina, Nick used his credit to get an eighth bracelet. This one was some kind of cheap metal instead of rubber like most of the bracelets or elastic like the one with the key; it had a shiny, mirrored surface that indicated he had an interest in voyeurism. He'd never done it before, but of all the kinks, it seemed the safest; no protection required to watch two people (or maybe one or three) have sex, and if for some reason he needed to leave, he'd be the least indisposed and the most ready to get out of Dodge.

 

It was all fantasy for the moment, but Nick knew he was being sucked in. It was better than his earlier obsession with feeling like he was getting back at Walter Gordon, or more generally, pretending he was hurting someone else in an attempt to make himself feel like less of a victim. When Nick thought back to the three times he'd done it, he realized it had never been as successful as he'd hoped; it had only made him feel guilty, not to mention disgusted with himself and the 'sick fucks' who liked it. But Nick was starting to think they'd had more character than Nick because they'd been aware of what they liked and willing and able to indulge in their desires and even make a living doing it.

 

Nick hadn't been back to the Dominion since he'd started coming to the club, and he was better for it. That wasn't to say he wouldn't go back some day for a different type of fantasy, but the club had something the Dominion didn't; everyone there was a free agent, so to speak, there to meet people and establish relationships or find sexual partners. There was no client and employee, no one working for anyone, everyone on a level playing field searching for something real instead of a fantasy that would never leave the depths of the Dominion. Nick had talked to couples who'd met in the clubs, who'd discovered mutual interests far more quickly than they would have in the light of day, and had managed to build a real relationship that lasted out in the real world.

 

"We worked in the same building for eight years and never knew it," Don said, a pale, skinny guy who was a lawyer during the day and came to the club in ill-fitting leather pants, boots, and jacket. Actually, the boots fit him all right, but the pants were about a size too small and the jacket was about two sizes too large. He had purple bracelets on his left wrist, meaning he was interested in both men and women, and a braided purple bracelet on his wrist. His bracelets matched his wife's. "Of course, it's a huge building, and I work on the top floor."

 

"And I'm just a paralegal on the third floor," Jill continued, giving Don a gap-toothed grin. She was about twice Don's size, making Nick wonder about the logistics in bed. Sara had told him, rather amusedly, about the case where a big girl had fallen asleep on a skinny guy, gone into diabetic shock and suffocated him. That wasn't the part that had amused Sara, of course, she was tactful about that part; what had amused her was the experiment they'd done with Greg, using a dummy and two-hundred-eighty pounds of weight to figure how much was too much for Greg to breathe, since Greg was about the same height and weight of the victim. They shouldn't really laugh about something like that, but when Sara described the way Greg had been flailing, it was hard not to. "We never would've met if it weren't for this club."

 

Nick smiled politely and nodded, intrigued by their story even though he still didn't know why they'd approached him. One of these nights, Nick was going to start approaching for people, but until he got more comfortable in his own skin, he was going to let them come to him. "How'd you find out about the club?" It wasn't exactly advertised anywhere.

 

Don and Jill exchanged a look, Jill pursing her lips before she answered. "I started at the firm as an intern," she remembered with a slowly widening grin. "On my time off I worked at the Dominion. The money was incredible." Jill grinned and rolled her eyes. "When I finished my degree, I told Heather I had to quit, and she told me about this club." Jill leaned closer, her upper lip glistening with sweat as she spoke. "Employees aren't allowed to be guests here," she confided in a whisper. "It would be a conflict of interest."

 

"Really," Nick murmured thoughtfully, shifting his glance curiously to Don. "You work there too?"

 

Don laughed, a big laugh for a small man. "No, no. One of Heather's girls hired me as a consultant concerning some legal issues with the Dominion. We worked together for over a year, and one day she showed up with an envelope from her boss - that would be Heather - and said I should go to this address. I met Jill my first day here, and we've been coming back ever since."

 

"You come back even though you're married?" Nick knew the club was mainly for people looking for like-minded people to socialize with, have sex with, so if they were married, what would interest them here?

 

"Well, yeah," Don said, pushing back the cuff of his leather jacket to reveal the braided purple bracelet. "Every once in a while we like to find someone to have a threesome with. Spice it up every once in a while."

 

Nick's eyebrows shot up at the admission. They were looking for someone to have a threesome with. Was that why they were talking to him? He didn't have a threesome bracelet, but maybe they saw the voyeurism one and thought he'd want to watch. And it was shallow, sure, but Nick didn't really want to watch these two have sex. He didn't even want to see them naked. "Ah," he managed awkwardly. What was the polite way to turn down a threesome?

 

Jill pursed her lips sympathetically, glancing at Don and then reaching over to pat Nick's arm. "And sometimes we just wanna talk to some like-minded people," she said reassuringly, allowing Nick to breathe a sigh of relief. Nick didn't want to be shallow, but he wouldn't be surprised if these two had been turned down before. And that was what this club was all about - making rejection, and acceptance, easier. Jill's hand tightened on his arm suddenly and Nick snapped to attention, blinking in confusion because Jill was waving at someone behind Nick. "Charles!" she exclaimed, jumping up from Don's lap and past Nick. Curious, Nick turned in his chair to see Jill hugging someone. The man was hugging her back, exposing his wrists; his left wrist was bare, and there were only two bracelets on his right wrist: a clear asexuality bracelet and a shiny voyeurism bracelet. Interesting. "Elliot," Jill said excitedly, pulling away from the man to squeeze Nick's shoulder. "This is our good friend Charles."

 

Don was nodding enthusiastically, getting up to hug Charles, too. Nick got up to shake the newcomer's hand, freezing in place when he recognized those clear blue eyes. Charles? "Elliot," Gil said pleasantly, taking Nick's hand as Nick stood there, stunned. What the hell was Gil doing there? "I think we've already met," Gil continued easily, winking at Don and Jill. Nick didn't know what was giving him the heart attack; the fact that Gil was at Club Heather, or the fact that Nick had just seen his boss wink.

 

"I need a drink," Nick gasped, his hand still trapped in Gil's. "Can I - does anyone -"

 

Clearly amused, Don and Jill were giggling at each other, Jill sobering long enough to pat Nick on the shoulder. "We'll get the drinks for you, honey. Beer or somethin' stronger?"

 

Something stronger, definitely, but Nick was not going to get drunk and say or do something stupid in front of Gil. "Just water," he croaked, blushing furiously as he cleared his throat. Gil finally released his hand, his boss's expression passive but Nick could see the amusement twinkling in Gil's eyes. "Thank you."

 

"No problem," Jill said cheerfully, then dragged Don toward the bar. Nick wondered if they'd actually be back. Nick turned to face his boss, at a loss for words.

 

"Well," Gil said with a smile, and took a seat across from Nick. "This is certainly a surprise."

 

***

This was not happening. Nick's boss, the man he admired more than anyone else in his life, was not at Club Heather, as casually surprised as if he'd found a cockroach on the break room counter. Gil's intellectual curiosity knew no bounds, and Nick really didn't want to be his next subject.

 

At least Gil was smiling. And Gil was here, too, which meant he couldn't judge Nick for being here. Unless he had an issue with any of Nick's bracelets, but he was friends with Tony and Jill, so he was at least okay with bisexuality and threesomes, right? And Nick wasn't wearing any threesome bracelets, or a bisexuality one for that matter, since he was mostly interested in men. And one of Nick's bracelets matched Gil's, which was kind of shocking but a relief at the same time.

 

"You're telling me," he agreed with a shake of his head. Gil was playing it cool, so even though Nick's heart was going a mile a minute, his thoughts racing too, wondering if Gil was going to fire him despite evidence to the contrary, Nick was going to try to play it cool too, or at least pretend. He could pretend. He'd been pretending to be fine on his own for the last three months, he could certainly pretend to be taking it in stride that his boss was at a kinky club. And wearing a voyeurism bracelet.

 

Gil caught him staring, of course, because even though Gil's poker face was better than Warrick's, never giving away any information except in times of extreme stress, Gil took everything in. He was far too observant for Nick to be comfortable, especially since he was sure Gil was analyzing the bracelets on Nick's wrists. "This place is a goldmine for behaviorists," Gil commented non-sequitor, causing Nick to frown in confusion as he tried to figure out the relevance. "Unfortunately they don't have a bracelet for that, but patrons seem to respond equally well to this one."

 

Nick blinked. He had no idea what Gil was talking about. "What do behaviorists have to do with voyeurs?"

 

The tiny hint of a smile revealed amusement, making Nick scowl at how stupid Gil could make him feel sometimes. "Behaviorists are a field of psychologists and sociologists who believe that there is more to be learned about human behavior from observation than experimentation. The very knowledge of experimentation - or observation - affects behavior, in effect changing the way subjects behave and the data that can be analyzed. It's a Heisenberg effect."

 

"Riiight," Nick drawled, mentally evaluating everything Gil had just said. "So wouldn't saying you're a voyeur make people act differently?"

 

"Precisely," Gil replied, his voice full of satisfaction. Nick wasn't sure what he'd hit on other than another oxymoron, but Gil's ways were often mysterious. "A majority of the club's patrons are here to exhibit themselves in the first place. I find it fascinating to watch the difference between people who want to be watched and those who don't. Some consider the difference to be modesty, but I believe that confidence and self-esteem are also factors in exhibitionism."

 

Leave it to Gil to turn a club into a sociological experiment. "That's... interesting." It wasn't interesting to Nick, but it was better than being drilled about his reasons for being here, or worrying that Gil would fire him. Gil appreciated all lifestyles and judged none. He didn't even judge the suspects they arrested; he left that to the jurors and judges. Everything about Gil was scientific, so he'd probably just look at Nick's presence as another variable in some observation of CSIs who went to clubs compared to those who don't. "So, Charles. Did you name yourself after a behaviorist?"

 

Gil smiled slowly, the skin around his eyes and forehead crinkling. "No. My pseudonym is inspired by Charles Darwin." Nick raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

 

"That's the guy who did the theory of evolution, right?" Of course. Gil was a scientist, and as a bug expert, he was a biologist too. He had to be interested not only in the evolution of species in general, but in the evolution of a bug's life from conception to death. It was how Gil solved so many of his cases.

 

"Yes, but what makes Darwin's work exceptional is the time period during which he performed and presented his research. Even after his conclusions about evolution, only Creationism was taught in schools for over a hundred years. Darwin stood up against the ideals of religion and used science to prove the progression of life on Earth as we know it."

 

"Huh." So it was a philosophical admiration as well as a scientific one. "That's a lot deeper than mine."

 

"Elliot?" Gil asked, and Nick nodded.

 

"Yeah, it's from a tv show." Nick shrugged. "Just someone I can identify with."

 

Gil smiled slightly and nodded. "Well, I'm sure it's apt." What Gil didn't say was that he didn't watch tv; he didn't need to. Nick knew he didn't, knew he'd rather watch people in the throes of real life than characters contrived on a set. Gil looked up then, accepting a drink from Jill. "Thank you," he said politely, shifting his chair to the side so Don and Jill could sit. Nick took his water, and leaned back in his chair to watch the others as they participated in conversation.

 

That hadn't been so bad. And the best part was, it meant they could keep talking without feeling guilty about rejecting Don and Jill. If they were friends of Gil, they had to be pretty decent, so Nick decided to observe and see if there was a possibility of friendship. Maybe some day, Nick could learn to be as open-minded as Gil.

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes: Nick's first night back at work is full of surprises.  


* * *

Even though Nick went to the club several times during his last week of leave, he didn't see Gil again until his first night back at work. Nothing was said about where they'd last met, nor did Gil act liked anything of significance had happened. Nick probably should've expected that. Still, it was better than the alternative possibility of Gil firing him, so it was all good.

 

"Good to have you back, man." Warrick was the first to welcome him back to the team, Sara and Catherine not far behind. Greg was there for assignments, too, which surprised Nick a little until he remembered that Greg was a CSI now, had been for a couple of years, actually. It had been easy to forget, between how long he'd been on swing with Warrick and Catherine, and seeing Greg in the lab every now and then. That was where Nick was used to seeing him, and he hadn't quite put Greg into the CSI category in his head yet.

 

No solos for Nick on his first night back; he worked a case with Gil and Sara, while Warrick went with Catherine and Greg to investigate a single murder. It was a slow night for Vegas law enforcement, two cases split between six CSIs. That was the way Nick liked it, a chance to ease back into the job. No coin flips or dark alleys, just a homicide to work with two of Vegas' best. It was good to be back on the team again; good to remember what family felt like.

 

***

 

They were in the locker room when Nick saw it. A flash of gold on Warrick's finger, not a UNLV ring but a plain gold band. It hadn't been there three weeks ago when Warrick had been there to comfort him, putting their friendship before his girlfriend for just a few minutes and it had meant the world to Nick.

 

Nick frowned, his unbuttoned shirt fluttering against his sides as he sank onto the bench between their lockers. When had Warrick gotten married? Why hadn't he told Nick about it? Why hadn't Tina been wearing an engagement ring? Why hadn't Nick been invited? It was a small thing, maybe, but Nick had thought they were closer than that. After all they'd been through... maybe he didn't have the right to expect Warrick to ask Nick to be his best man, but he could've at least told Nick about his plans. Maybe 'best friends' was a concept best left to high school, but Nick had considered Warrick his best friend for years. It stung to know that Warrick didn't feel the same.

 

"Hey, you okay?"

 

Warrick's tone was infused with concern, his usually husky voice lower than usual. Nick hadn't realized just how much he'd always liked that voice, how comforting it was, how much he'd depended on it and waited to hear it the day he'd spent in the ground. Nick swallowed and tried to nod, but his head chose to move back and forth instead, turning into some weird indecisive circular motion that didn't mean anything. "Yeah, I'm good," he said, pushing up from the bench and buttoning his shirt, even though he'd meant to take it off and change into a clean one. It didn't matter. He could change at home.

 

"You sure?" Warrick asked, and Nick turned to face him. He couldn't lie to Warrick, even if Warrick had kept something as important as his marriage from him. Nick's mouth seemed to be permanently tilted down at the corners, his eyebrows so low it gave him a headache.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked simply. For a moment, Warrick looked confused, and Nick realized Warrick had no idea what he was talking about. How easily did you forget that you'd just gotten married? "Your wedding ring," Nick clarified when Warrick's expression didn't change, and watched the realization come over Warrick's face.

 

"Oh," Warrick said hoarsely, and guiltily shoved his hands in his pockets. "It was a spur of the moment thing. I uh, I didn't get a chance to tell you."

 

Warrick had had three weeks to tell him. Unless, of course... "You got married last night?"

 

Warrick grinned sheepishly. "Yeah," he admitted, rocking back on his heels. Warrick looked so fucking happy and Nick felt like he'd just swallowed a stone. He shouldn't be so upset about this - should he? Warrick's hand was on his shoulder, Warrick's face was close, and Nick dropped his gaze, because he wasn't about to allow himself to want to kiss Warrick. Not now, of all times. "Nick, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I swear I didn't know we were going to do it until we did, but it felt like the right thing to do."

 

"The right-" Nick sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Jesus, Rick, that's how you justify a one-night stand, not a marriage. You do realize this is a lifelong commitment, don't you?"

 

"I love her," Warrick said unconvincingly. Nick snorted.

 

"How do you know that? You've known her, what, six months?"

 

Warrick shrugged. "Four."

 

"Four. Oh, great. That's even better." Four months. Warrick knew Tina four months and thought he was in love with her. Nick had known Warrick for ten years and he was just starting to realize that he might be attracted to his best friend but no, it didn't mean anything and clearly, Warrick didn't even consider him a close enough friend to tell him he was going to get married. He could've said something at the beginning of the shift, or even this morning, but he hadn't, had he? No, Warrick hadn't even remembered he was married until Nick brought it up. What the hell kind of marriage was that?

 

"Look, Nick, I'm sorry." Warrick's voice was a little louder now, impatience seeping into his tone. For a guy who'd just gotten married, he didn't seem very happy. Then again, he'd had to go to work instead of his wedding night, but he and Tina had already had sex, in the shower even, so what did one night matter? "What do you want me to do, go back in time? I can't change it."

 

"No," Nick said said sarcastically, and slammed his locker door shut. "Why would you want to do that? Why would you want me to get in the way at your wedding?"

 

"You wouldn't have been getting in the way," Warrick ground out. No, he did not sound happy at all. "Look, if we'd planned it, I would've called you."

 

Nick smirked skeptically. "How do you not plan a wedding? You have to get blood tests and wait for a marriage license and-"

 

"Not in Vegas," Warrick interrupted. Nick shook his head in disbelief.

 

Of course. Because marriage was a business in Vegas. "Please tell me you didn't get married dressed up as Elvis or an alien," he groaned. Warrick looked at him strangely, but seemed a little relieved. Probably because Nick wasn't attacking his marriage anymore, at least not directly.

 

"No, they were all out," Warrick deadpanned, "so we did the Star Trek wedding."

 

Warrick was joking. He had to be. Nick hoped. Because Warrick was doing a damn good job of keeping a straight face, and Nick sighed in relief when Warrick finally cracked a smile. Thank God. "I hate you," he muttered, smiling. He didn't, of course; he loved Warrick, just like he loved Gil and Sara and Catherine and Greg and Archie and even Hodges. It was there on the tape if Warrick wanted proof, but then, he didn't know, did he? He'd never know.

 

"I know," Warrick smiled, "I hate you too." Nick had to take a deep breath at the look on Warrick's face, tender and concerned, his expression proving his words to be a lie. Nick knew that anyway, but he wished he could tell Warrick the truth, about what he'd said on the tape, about the spark he'd felt that time three weeks ago and right this very moment as they discussed Warrick's marriage. He was getting overemotional again, letting what had happened influence his feelings for Warrick because they'd never been there before and they had to be some kind of reaction to all the changes going on in his life. Warrick's hand was on his shoulder again, comforting, making Nick want to lean into it like he always did. "Why are you so upset about this anyway?" he asked softly, curiosity and confusion in Warrick's voice. Clearly, Tina was important to him, and it was also clear that Nick being upset made Warrick upset, too. He had to believe Warrick's reasons for not telling him, and that if Warrick had the chance, he would've said something.

 

"Because," Nick said, trying to put the right words together before he said or did something to damage their friendship even more. Nick knew why Tina had married Warrick if he'd looked at her with those eyes, intense and expressive and caring, making Nick question his own uncertainty. He didn't want Warrick to love Tina; he didn't want Warrick to have married her. Because it made his fantasies meaningless, and now that his best friend was married, Nick was alone in a world where he had no direction.

 

There was a simple answer to Warrick's question, one that didn't involved any words. All he had to do was bridge the gap between them and press his lips to Warrick's, take the comfort he so badly needed. But Warrick didn't care about him like that; it was just friendship, just manly affection between them, if there was such a thing, and Nick couldn't take what he hadn't earned.

 

"Because I don't know if I'll ever find what I'm looking for," he finally said, a safe answer that Warrick could interpret any way he wished. Nick's burden shouldn't be Warrick's, especially if it was just a phase that would pass. He wasn't in love, at least; it was just attraction, and if he let it stop there, it wouldn't go any further.

 

Warrick stared at him long and hard, then shook his head. "You will," he said firmly, then exited the locker room with a smile over his shoulder at Nick. Nick smiled back, then sagged back against his locker. He'd done the right thing.

 

"Hey."

 

The unexpected voice made Nick jump, and he had to steady himself with his hands against the locker, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes until he'd regained his equilibrium.

 

"Sorry," the voice said sheepishly, and Nick finally opened his eyes, looking at his unexpected visitor. Greg was fiddling with the lock on his locker, fingers moving aimlessly as he watched Nick. "I didn't mean to scare you."

 

Nick tried on a smile, one that was met with a tired one from Greg. "'s okay," he said, turning around again to sit on the bench, watching as Greg half-heartedly dialed in the combination to his locker. He wanted to ask how long Greg had been standing there, but it didn't really matter. Unless Greg had been able to see his face - which only Warrick had been able to see - he had no way of knowing what had been going on in Nick's head even if he'd heard the whole conversation. "I was just thinking."

 

Greg nodded an acknowledgement of Nick's words, chewing his lip in concentration as he finally opened his locker. He hesitated with his shirt in his hand, glancing back at Nick as though giving changing second thoughts. "I thought everyone had already left," Greg explained, staring down at the shirt in his hands. He didn't say anything for a minute, then continued, "I don't usually change in front of people. Don't wanna subject them to the hideousness that is Greg Sanders' back, yanno?"

 

"Your back's not hideous," Nick commented, wondering why in the hell Greg would think that. Greg just chuckled softly to himself, then glanced sideways at Nick through his lashes.

 

"When was the last time you saw it?"

 

That was a good question, actually. Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Greg's back because Greg never changed with them. "I don't think I have, now that you mention it," he said thoughtfully. There had to be a reason Greg thought it was hideous, though, and that was when Nick remembered the explosion; Greg had gotten third-degree burns. Were the scars still there? Sara had showered with him when they'd had that biohazard scare, but she hadn't said anything about scars, and all Greg had said was that Sara had looked even though Greg had kept his eyes closed. An unexpected gentleman. "I'm sure it's not too bad."

 

Greg scoffed. "Yeah. Right."

 

Nick raised an eyebrow, then both of his hands, shrugging over at Greg. "Hey, it's up to you. You want me to leave, I will." Nick didn't really want to leave, though, because his choices were to stay here and talk to a coworker, or go home and keep thinking about Warrick's marriage. There was also the club, but Nick wasn't really in the mood for loud music and strobe lights. He just wanted some peace and quiet.

 

Greg shrugged, but his hands shook as he removed his shirt, making Nick wonder if he really did think his back was that hideous. Nick kept himself planted on the bench, determined not to comment or get up to leave when Greg's back was revealed, because he wouldn't want someone to do that to him.

 

Something shifted as Nick watched Greg remove his shirt, hands shaking, shoulders hunched forward, his face hidden from Nick's view. Nick had only ever seen Greg as a lab tech, lab rat, a guy who got the job done and made their jobs a lot easier and more successful, a guy whose hair changed every week and whose music was as loud as his shirts. But in this light, in the quiet locker room, with Greg trying so hard at hiding his nervousness, Nick suddenly felt protective of him, the way he imagined Warrick had to feel to hold Nick the way he had. Nick wanted to do that now, hug Greg, tell him that it was okay, that he wasn't hideous and that what had happened to him wasn't his fault, didn't change who he was. All the things Nick had needed to hear and even if there was no one left to tell him that, he wished he could do some good and make Greg's life just a little bit better by being there for him.

 

He and Greg had never been all that close, even though they'd flirted plenty when Greg had been in the lab. They'd been... comfortable together, comfortable joking and laughing and even touching the way Nick did with Warrick, even though Nick had never truly been able to say that Greg was a friend instead of an acquaintance. Maybe it was time to change that, time to convince Greg that he had nothing to be nervous about and ask Greg about his flat hair when Nick remembered it being so much more... dimensional.

 

"See?" Greg was still facing his locker, his shirt hanging from his elbows. "Hideous."

 

Nick frowned. There were scars, but not as extensive as he'd expected. Not necessarily attractive, but not hideous, either. "What are you talking about?" Nick stood up from the bench, going to take a closer look at the scars. "They're not that bad."

 

"If you say so," Greg shrugged, but when Nick caught a look at his face, Greg was smiling. Still not looking at him, Greg quickly slipped into a different shirt, jumping a little when he slammed his own locker door. "So, hey," Greg continued, turning around and shoving his hands in his pockets. "You wanna go out for a drink or something?"

 

The offer surprised Nick, especially after what had just happened with Warrick. Maybe Greg had heard, or had some idea of what had happened. Maybe Nick's feelings had been written on his face after Warrick left. "Sure," he said with a smile. When Greg grinned back, Nick knew he'd made the right decision.

 

***

"The team doesn't go out for breakfast anymore," Greg lamented, poking his untouched waffles with a fork. "Ever since Ecklie split us up, no one goes to breakfast. All that was left was me and Sara and Sofia, and I mean, I like both of them, but they don't like each other, so there's no breakfast. Even when Sofia got promoted to detective she was still all bitter about the demotion, and Sara thinks she's just a whiner." Greg sighed.

 

Nick frowned, trying to wrap his head around this new Greg. Quiet, all dressed in dark clothes, huge sunglasses hiding his face even in the restaurant. Had Greg been like this before? "Sofia's a detective now?" he asked instead, because he knew how much he'd hated it when anyone asked if he was okay and he wasn't.

 

"Yeah," Greg said with a half grin, the first time all morning his mouth hadn't been in a straight line. Nick tried to remember if he'd seen Greg like this before, or if anything had happened that he knew of to make Greg so melancholy, but he couldn't. "She's good at what she does. She could be one of the guys if she didn't look down on the CSIs. It's personal, I guess, but..." Greg shrugged.

 

Hm. Nick was well aware of Sofia's anger over the demotion after she'd reported to Ecklie in Gil's favor, but he didn't realize that she looked down on all CSIs. It hadn't mattered much to him, but he guessed Greg being new to the field was taking it personally. "Do you like her?"

 

Greg frowned, turned his fork over and started mashing his waffles. "What do you mean?"

 

Apparently not. Nick shrugged. "I just thought you might like her."

 

It felt like Greg was watching him, but he couldn't tell for sure with Greg's downtilted face and mirrored sunglasses. "Oh, I do," Greg said confidently. "She's very dominant."

 

Greg's choice of words surprised him. Admitting that you liked someone because they were dominant wasn't something you said to a casual acquaintance unless you knew they weren't judgmental about that kind of lifestyle. "She is," Nick agreed, watching Greg carefully. It was driving him nuts not being able to see Greg's eyes.

 

Greg nodded. He licked his lips and then pushed his plate away with a sigh. "I have to talk to you about something," he said, "but not here."

 

"Oh." Nick rubbed his thumb through the condensation left by his glass, wondering if it had anything to do with the dominant comment Greg had just made. Had Gil mentioned seeing him at the club? Why would Gil mention something like that to Greg? Or to anyone other than Heather, for that matter? "Well, sure. My place or yours?"

 

Greg smirked. "I'd say mine, but all I have is a crappy little apartment." Nick smiled.

 

"All I have is a crappy little apartment, too," he said.

 

"Yours, then," Greg said decisively. "I'm sick of my apartment."

 

Nick frowned, not sure what to make of that comment, but he didn't say anything about it. "All right."

 

***

 

 

Nick watched as the sunglasses came off, the earpiece being tucked into the collar of Greg's shirt. One of Greg's hands was shaking, the other one steadied by the weight of the duffle bag in his hand. "Can I put this up here?" he asked, glancing at the table by the door. Nick nodded, and Greg hoisted the bag up onto the table.

 

This wasn't how Nick had planned to spend his first morning back from work, but it was a hell of a lot better than being alone. It had been a while since he and Greg had hung out; they'd never done so outside of work, but Nick remembered when they'd bantered in the lab, and the few times Greg had come to breakfast with the team. He'd always been uncharacteristically quiet then, as if afraid that saying anything would get him kicked out of the group. "Coffee?"

 

"Yeah," Greg said, digging into his duffle bag and tossing another bag at Nick. Nick caught it, and blinked down at the Blue Hawaiian label. Greg smirked. "I don't drink that canned crap," he informed Nick. "No offense."

 

Nick chuckled, glad to see Greg smiling. "None taken." He was a little anxious wondering what Greg wanted to talk about, but finally the ice was broken, with insults no less. "As long as you're sharing." Nick didn't have any sentimental feelings for his own coffee; it was cheap and it had caffeine, and it kept him awake when he was tired. But compared to Greg's, it tasted horrible.

 

"All right, you twisted my arm." Greg glanced sideways at him, his smirk widening into a grin. Nick couldn't help grinning back.

 

He liked having Greg in his apartment. It was something of a mess, since Nick had been living the lazy life of a bachelor, but he had a feeling Greg wouldn't mind. Greg's apartment probably looked the same way.

 

Nick returned to clear the newspapers from the table, stopping short when he saw the bracelets. Dark green, silver; at first Nick thought they were his own, but then he saw colors he didn't have, black, orange, bicolored bracelets, braided bracelets. Nick raised his eyes to Greg's, confused, and Greg held his gaze.

 

"These are mine," he said quietly. "I thought you should know."

 

Greg knew that Nick had been going to the club. He had to. Otherwise there would be no reason for Greg to show him the bracelets, unless he was planning to explain them. Even then, Nick didn't know why Greg would be comfortable telling him about the club unless Greg knew that Nick had been to the club, too.

 

Greg was probably as anxious as Nick, so Nick decided to eliminate any need for Greg to be uncertain. Pulling out a chair, he sat down, then picked up the dark green bracelet. "Dominant?" he asked, the simple word making Greg's face clear with relief. "I thought you liked the other person to be dominant." At least, that was what Greg's comment about Sofia would imply.

 

Relaxed now, Greg started to take a seat next to Nick, getting up when he realized the chair was piled high with newspapers.

 

"Sorry," Nick apologized with a chuckle, and got up to move them out of the way. "I didn't get around to recycling them yet."

 

That was another icebreaker Nick hadn't expected. Greg just took it in stride, smiling as he took a seat, then picked up a bicolored bracelet as if nothing had happened. "I'm not always submissive." It struck Nick that he and Greg were talking about sex. And during sex, Greg was submissive. But not always. Nick nodded for Greg to continue. He could take this in stride just like Greg was, and eventually his blush would go away. "I'm a switch." Greg was blushing now, too. "Well, I used to be, anyway. It's been a while."

 

Nick wanted to ask for more details, but he was too embarrassed. And maybe liking the thought of Greg being submissive too much to have an objective conversation about it. Instead, he took the bracelet from Greg, studying the colors. "Oh, I get it. The pink's the submissive part, and the green's the dominant one."

 

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "I'd usually wear it with a plain green one or a pink one, depending on what kind of mood I was in." Greg picked up the two bracelets he'd just mentioned, stroking his thumb over the smooth rubber surface. It was a nostalgic moment, at least for Greg, but Nick could feel it. It felt so much like his own memory that he reached out and touched the green bracelet Greg was holding, looking up to see Greg looking at him tentatively.

 

"I have one like this too," he admitted, half-smiling before he stopped, and then smiled again. "I uh, I've never, done it though." Nick frowned, remembering how he'd come to choose that bracelet. "I don't really know anything about it." Greg licked his lips, looking on the verge of saying something, but then he looked away. Greg let go of the green bracelet, and Nick curled his fingers around it. Neither of them spoke for a long while, so Nick reached for another bracelet and broke the silence. "What's this one mean?"

 

Greg swallowed, reaching for the black rubber bracelet with shaking fingers. At first Nick wasn't sure he'd be able to get a grip on it, but Greg wrapped his fingers around it, staring as he took a deep breath. "Bee sea pea." Or at least, that was what it sounded like he said. Nick frowned. Greg saw his confusion, and swallowed hard. "Breath control play. Bcp."

 

Nick's frown deepened. "Breathplay?" Greg nodded, not looking at him. Nick wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but he remembered the case they'd done at the Dominion. "Liquid latex and straws up your nose?"

 

Greg let out a choked laugh. "No," he denied with a wry smile, finally looking up at Nick again, fear of judgment written all over his face. "I um." Greg lifted his hand to his throat, pressing his own hand to his neck, the black bracelet dangling between his fingers. "I liked to have my partners, um. Inhibit my breathing. While we were having sex."

 

Nick was pretty sure inhibiting his breathing meant strangling, but he didn't ask. He didn't want to picture Greg being strangled. He wanted to ask why, how, what the hell was wrong with him, but Greg didn't need that right now. He wasn't telling Nick his secrets just to be lectured. At least Greg was using past tense, so Nick could too. "Weren't you scared?"

 

"Yeah, that was the point." Greg lowered his hand to his chest, holding it there as if checking for a heartbeat. "It's an adrenaline rush, like... man, I can't even describe it."

 

Nick could. Nick knew exactly what it felt like. He'd known in the back of his mind it was coming; well, leaving, actually, the air would be leaving him. It was one thing to expect it logically, though, and entirely another thing to try to draw breath and find nothing to breathe in. No matter how much he struggled, gasped - he couldn't even gasp, because there was no air. Not being able to breathe had done what twenty hours trapped in a box with a flashing light and biting ants hadn't been able to - it had made him raise the gun to his gullet and press down on the trigger. If he'd been stronger, if Warrick had gotten there just a second later...

 

"Oh, God. Oh no. I'm - Nick... Nick, come here." Nick's eyes fluttered open as he felt Greg's hands on him, pulling away from the table. He opened his mouth to protest, then put his hand to his mouth, trying to keep anything else from coming out. There was vomit all over the table, all over the bracelets, and Nick was shaking, barely able to walk even with Greg supporting him.

 

Greg was talking the whole time, alternating between telling him it was okay and apologizing for not thinking. Once Nick was able to talk again, he was going to tell Greg it was okay, that Greg hadn't done anything wrong, just answered his questions. Greg had come here to tell him the truth about the club, probably because he knew somehow that Nick had been going to the club, and he had no way of knowing it would give Nick a flashback.

 

What he didn't understand was why Greg was even touching him. Oh, he wanted it, needed Greg to hold him, but he didn't know why Greg wasn't disgusted by the way he'd just thrown up in front of him, didn't know why Greg helping him clean his face. Nick wasn't sure even Warrick would go that far. When he had himself braced against the sink, Greg slipped away to clean up the table, amazing Nick even further. Nick should be the one cleaning up. He was the one who'd made a mess.

 

Once he'd gotten a little of his equilibrium back, Nick rinsed his mouth out with water, then, mouthwash, tolerating the sting of alcohol to rid the taste of bile from his mouth.

 

"I'm so sorry," Greg said mournfully, his face distorted with regret. Nick shook his head, trying to tell him it was okay, but Greg seemed to get it because he stopped talking and started touching, rubbing his hand up and down Nick's back. Nick swallowed and closed his eyes, focusing on steadying his breathing. Even though he might die of embarrassment, it didn't seem like Greg was going anywhere, and for that, Nick was grateful.

 

"It's okay," he finally managed to get out, his voice hoarse with stress.

 

"I know, I know," Greg said soothingly, "it's okay. I know." He stepped back so Nick could peel out of his dirtied shirt, tossing it in the shower to deal with later. Greg looped an arm around his waist and even though Nick could walk with no problem now, he accepted it, even reciprocated with his arm around Greg's shoulders. "You want to go to bed?"

 

Nick nodded, his eyes heavy with how exhausted he was, a combination of the puking and the new sleep schedule and the finding out that Warrick was married. There was also having Greg here and learning intriguing (and partly disturbing) things about his interests, but that was okay because Greg was also taking care of him, and Nick hadn't felt this cared for by many people in his life. "Yeah." He wanted to ask Greg to stay, but he couldn't do that, not after he'd vomited all over Greg's things.

 

So it was a surprise when Greg turned down the sheets for him, then stood awkwardly by the bed, rubbing the back of his neck and not going away. "You want me to stay?" he asked.

 

Nick held up the covers for him.

 

***

Nick didn't know why he'd never noticed Greg's face before. What he'd always noticed was Greg's personality; confident to the point of being boastful, until Greg admitted that his annoying babbling was something he couldn't help when he was nervous - and that Gil made him nervous. Nick smiled at the thought.

 

Greg had slept on his back, one arm tossed above his head, the other under the covers. As curious as Nick was about the location of Greg's hidden hand, he had the decency not to look. Instead, he studied the right side of Greg's face, the only side he could see. He immediately fell in love with Greg's upper eyelids, the way the skin there was smoother than the rest of Greg's face, the way Greg's sooty lashes fanned across his cheek. Freckles spotted Greg's skin, and Nick wondered if they'd always been there, or if they'd developed later in life like the one on Nick's face had appeared a few years ago.

 

Nick had some experience, but he'd never woken up with a beautiful man in his bed. Or any man, for that matter. There had been sex, in the frat house and in hotel rooms, but never anywhere that meant something to him.

 

Of course, he and Greg hadn't had sex. He and Greg had talked about sex, and then Nick had thrown up. Not because they were talking about sex, but because something Greg used to do reminded Nick of the worst day of his life.

 

He didn't realize he was touching Greg until he felt Greg's face shift under his fingers. He started to pull his hand away, but Greg smiled at him, looking so content that Nick knew his touch wasn't unwanted. So he kept touching, stroking the backs of his fingers down the side of Greg's face, watching as Greg closed his eyes and nuzzled into his touch.

 

If Greg liked that, maybe he'd like a kiss, too. Nick proceeded slowly, scooting closer, his fingers feather-light against Greg's skin. Greg didn't move, but Nick was observant of his reaction, the way Greg's eyes started to close, his lips parting just a little. Nick strained to hear Greg's breath, but even as he moved closer, all he heard was silence. He was close enough that he should have been able to hear it through the rush of blood past his ears, but ever since he'd been rescued, his hearing hadn't been the same.

 

Nick breathed out a sigh, half frustrated and half anticipating the kiss Greg didn't seem to want to avoid, forgetting his frustration when Greg's eyelids fluttered closed.

 

Moistening his lips with a swipe of his tongue, Nick's gaze darted down to Greg's lips, then up to Greg's eyelids. It wasn't what he'd planned, but it seemed so perfect. Cupping Greg's face in his hands, Nick leaned up and a brushed a kiss over each eyelid. It must have startled Greg, because this time, his intake of breath was loud enough for Nick to hear.

 

"Look at me," Nick whispered, the Vegas accent he'd acquired replaced by his natural voice. He was rewarded with the sight of Greg's open eyes, darker than he'd ever seen them.

 

"Never dominant, huh." It was a joke; Nick could see it in Greg's eyes, hear the teasing tone of his voice. It didn't stop Nick from blushing. Greg lifted a finger to Nick's lips, effectively stopping his breathing for a moment. "Let me," he whispered, then slid both hands back to frame Nick's face, his fingertips pressing into Nick's scalp. "Kiss me." Even whispering, Greg's voice was a command, and Nick knew he was going to obey.

 

Maybe later he'd think about how strange this was, sleeping with Greg before they had sex or even kissed, then kissed without any kind of discussion about whether they were going to date or not. The only discussion was a weird, vague kind of joking about dominance, and even though Nick had never thought of himself as submissive, his body was telling him to do whatever Greg asked.

 

In the position he was in, though, he couldn't kiss Greg without holding his face too tight. So Nick let go with one hand, then other, bracing himself with a hand on either side of Greg's head, lowering his face slowly toward Greg's. By the time their lips met, it felt like forever had passed.

 

Hovering had never been a part of kissing, but that was what Nick was doing, hovering half over Greg as they shared breath for the first time. It was a little scary how certain Nick was that this would happen again, that it was only the first time they'd kiss. The feeling was so strong that Nick didn't feel any need to rush, to leap into it, to wonder about the implications of what was happening. They'd never been so close as to be considered friends, so there was no friendship at risk if they screwed this up.

 

"Can I ask you something?" he murmured, levering himself up on his elbows when Greg nodded. Greg didn't seem to be in any rush, either, and that gave Nick peace of mind. "If we'd met at the club, and we didn't work together, would we be here?"

 

Greg pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I never went home with the people I met at the club, at least not at first. But if it was you..." Greg smiled teasingly, then tilted his head curiously. "How long have you been going?"

 

Physically, Nick was starting to get uncomfortable, so he got off his elbows and stretched out on his side, tracing the waves of Greg's hair with his fingers. "About a month," he answered simply, trying not to think about how he'd gotten there. No matter what Gordon had put him through, Nick knew he shouldn't have reacted the way he did by going to the Dominion. Thinking about it just made him hate himself.

 

Greg sighed. "We couldn't have met there, then."

 

"Hm." Nick studied Greg's face, but he couldn't read his expression. He wanted to ask why not, but he didn't want to pressure Greg, either. Maybe Greg just didn't go anymore. He had talked about it in past tense; maybe he'd found a relationship, or just hadn't gone in the last month.

 

"I started going about four years ago," Greg began. Nick nodded, idly running his fingers through Greg's hair as he listened. "After..." Greg paused, taking a deep breath, then nodded to himself and continued. "After the explosion in the lab, I stopped going for a while. A few months before that, the guy I'd been going out with had to move to New York for a job. He asked me to come with him, but... I don't know, I wasn't ready to make that kind of commitment." He wanted to ask if Greg wasn't ready to make a commitment with anyone, or that guy in particular, but Nick held his tongue. Greg would tell him if he wanted to tell him. "So I was single again, and then there was the explosion..."

 

Greg didn't talk for a while after that, so Nick just stroked his hair, leaning close so the front of his body was pressed to Greg's side. Greg's body warmth was comforting, his very presence reassuring. They could talk about near-death experiences or nothing, and it would be comfortable, because they'd always been comfortable with each other. Somehow, it had never turned into more until now. Maybe after Greg told his story, Nick would understand why. And even if he didn't, he was content with feeling something so right after so many months of feeling wrong.

 

"I had a hard time eating." Greg turned his head, and Nick shifted his hand to accomodate the motion, pushing soft strands of Greg's hair back from his forehead. "I lost a lot of weight. That was when my hands starting shaking. It still happens sometimes when I get nervous or stressed out." Nick had noticed. Greg's hands had shaken when he'd taken off his shirt in the locker room, and earlier when he'd taken the black bracelet from Nick. "It took me a while to start feeling normal again, and when I did, I went back to the club. I started doing more of the dangerous stuff - bcp, mostly. It gave me such a rush every time it was over; every time I realized I was still alive." Greg was watching Nick cautiously now, his words more hesitant. Nick knew why.

 

"I'm okay," he said softly, moving his fingers through Greg's hair with the same steady rhythm. "It's okay."

 

Greg nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. "Okay." Greg smiled slightly, turning onto his side to face him, smile disappearing as he grew thoughtful again. "I started seeing this girl. While I was doing breathplay with other guys. I don't know what it was, but none of the girls wanted to do it." Greg shrugged.

 

Nick was starting to wonder where this was going, but since Greg was alive and well and lying right next to him with his neck intact and not paralyzed, Nick was without a conclusion, or even a hypothesis. Unless the girl found out about the guys, or the other way around, and that was why Greg stopped going to the club.

 

"Anyway, this girl I was seeing, we kept trying to hook up. But either she'd have to go to work or I would, or her friends would be there, it just wasn't happening for a while." An ironic smile curved Greg's lips. "We finally got a chance to be alone, and we started getting down to it, you know, and then... she saw my back. And she flipped out."

 

No wonder Greg had been so hesitant in the locker room. The last time he'd been with someone - at least, Nick assumed it was the last time - his partner had made him feel ugly because of the scars. Probably called him a lot of names, like 'hideous'. Before Nick could try to comfort Greg, though, Greg was talking again.

 

"She reported me to the club." Nick raised his eyebrows. Why the hell would someone do something like that? Greg's face was twisted into a scowl, and Nick was just glad it wasn't directed at him. "They wouldn't let me back in unless I wore a bracelet announcing that I had a deformity. I even went to Heather to see if they'd overturn it, but she said it was for my own good."

 

Nick shook his head, disgusted. "How is that for your own good?"

 

Greg sighed. "The whole point of the club is putting things out in the open that are usually hidden. Preferences for sex, body type, skin color; things we can't hide. So when someone wears a bracelet announcing what they're interested in - or not interested in - you don't have to waste your time going after someone who won't be into you anyway. When you go up to someone who's fat, you already know they're fat, and since they can't hide it, they already know you're interested in them even though they're fat. So if I hide my scars at a place like Heather's, I'd be wasting my time and everyone else's because it'll end up like it did with Chelsea."

 

What Greg was saying made a lot of sense, so much so that Nick agreed with it. That was the whole point of the club, announcing your secrets that were attractive to some people and offensive to others. If you weren't planning to spring your interests on someone that they might not find attractive - certain kinks, for example - you shouldn't try to hide something that might make you physically unattractive, either. "Why don't you just wear it, then? Or do you not want to go back?"

 

Greg was scowling again, and this time Nick wasn't sure it wasn't directed at him. "Because it's personal. It's not something I want to share with just anybody."

 

Despite agreeing with Greg's earlier explanation for why he should wear the bracelet - namely, that people couldn't hide things like their weight or skin color or sex - Nick understood Greg having that opinion, selfish though it may be. Everyone was selfish in some way; for Greg, it was hiding his scars, and if that meant not going to the club, that was a sacrifice he had to be willing to make. "You shared it with me," he said quietly.

 

The scowl disappeared completely, and it was replaced by a gentle smile. "Yeah," Greg said. "I knew I had to tell you about the club, and I figured when I told you about that, you'd know about my scars eventually, too. If you could deal with my scars, I figured you could deal with my other stuff, too."

 

So it had been a test, sort of, and Nick had passed. Nick smiled. "Don't worry," he reassured Greg. "I can handle all your stuff."

 

Greg snickered, breaking the sentimental moment. Nick raised an eyebrow. "Sorry," Greg laughed. "That just sounded dirty."

 

Hm. Nick carefully watched Greg's face, waiting until Greg squirmed a little. Then he smiled. "I bet everything sounds dirty to you."

 

Greg laughed, rolling into Nick and wrapping his arms around him. It felt so natural, even though they'd never been this close before. "When I'm in the right mood," he admitted, then sighed and sobered, resting his face in the crook of Nick's neck. "You feel so good," he murmured.

 

Nick smoothed down Greg's hair, smiling softly to himself as he held Greg in his arms. "So do you." He wanted so much, but it seemed to be happening so fast, and he didn't know how to be sure that he was feeling this way because Greg was in his bed, or because another human being was in his bed. "Greg," he started tentatively, "do you think this can go anywhere?"

 

"Hm?" Greg looked up, confusion in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean..." Nick frowned thoughtfully. "I like you, I like this. I want more of this." They shared a smile, tightening their arms around each other at the same time. How could this not be right? "But if anyone at work finds out about it, we could be in trouble."

 

"We don't even know what 'this' is yet," he pointed out. "Let's just... play it by ear, and see where it goes. Okay? I just..." Greg's voice broke a little. "Life keeps screwing us over and over again, and for once, I just want to enjoy something good, even if I don't know why it's happening. I don't care why this is happening," Greg said determinedly. "I just want to be here while it is."

 

It shouldn't have made any sense, but Nick understood perfectly. Greg didn't want to talk about the future or the present, how they'd gotten where they were or where they were going. He didn't want to think about the consequences or the past, and quite honestly, neither did Nick. Greg was right; they'd been through so much in the past few years, and comfort like this hadn't been easy to find. Instead of questioning it, or analyzing it, or even thinking about it, it would be nice just for once to accept that they'd found comfort in each other, and appreciate it while it lasted. Nick hoped it would last for a good long time, but if it didn't, he'd worry about it ending when it ended. Not now.

 

Now, he was going to appreciate the gift life had given him. He was lucky to be alive, and he was lucky to have Greg in his arms. Instead of figuring out what he'd done to earn it or when he was going to lose it, Nick was going to hang onto it, and make up for lost time life had taken away from both of them.

 

***

"How did you get to be so smart?"

 

Greg didn't answer at first, and for a moment, Nick thought he was going to have to explain what he meant. But before he got to that point, Greg shook his head. "It's not smarts," he said. "It's wisdom from years of life experience."

 

It was kind of discomfiting to hear Greg talking like that. "You're too young to be wise," he commented. Greg was too young to have the kind of life experience he was talking about. But then, so was Nick, and he'd been through more in the past few years than most people went through in a lifetime. The incidence of kidnapping was statistically small, and those who were kidnapped didn't always survive.

 

Greg shrugged. "Life doesn't always care how old you are."

 

That was true. It was also profound in a way Nick didn't usually expect Greg to be unless he was joking, but it was clear he wasn't joking. "No, it doesn't." Life happened, whether you were ready for it or not. For once, though, life was being kind to him by giving him Greg, even if he didn't understand how it had happened. That reminded Nick of something Greg had said earlier. These are mine, Greg had said about the bracelets. I thought you should know. But he'd never said why. "Why did you think I should know about you going to the club?"

 

"Oh." Greg brought a hand up to touch Nick's chest - Nick's bare chest - his gaze dropping to watch his fingers. "I saw you going in the other day."

 

Nick almost asked why Greg hadn't followed him in, but remembered just in time that Greg couldn't without wearing the one bracelet that was too personal. And even if that hadn't been the case, Greg might have been tentative to reveal himself to a coworker. "Did you see any of my bracelets?" Nick didn't know how he could have, since Nick didn't put them on until he was in the building. Greg shook his head. "So how'd you know I'd be okay with yours?" Just because they went to the same club didn't mean they had the same interests. If Nick had seen a yellow bracelet in Greg's pile, he wasn't sure if he would've been able to stomach it. Not that he'd been able to stomach the black bracelet, either, but that was a different story.

 

Pressing his fingertips against Nick's chest in a semicircle, Greg finally looked up. "I didn't," he said. "I wasn't even sure I was going to tell you. But then Cath told me about Warrick's wedding ring and I saw how upset you looked after he left." Nick wanted to know how much Greg had heard, but he didn't interrupt. "I figured he'd finally told you, and you could use a friend. I still wasn't sure I was going to tell you, but when you didn't freak out about my back..." Greg smiled almost bashfully. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you everything."

 

"I know the feeling." He'd never thought Greg would eventually be the person he'd confide in, but if Greg was willing to share, he was probably willing to listen too. "I wanted to tell Warrick everything until Tina showed up."

 

Greg looked down at his fingers again, and Nick was torn between asking if something was wrong or just enjoying Greg's touch. "You know," Greg said quietly, "you can tell me everything. If you want." He looked up again, his eyes saying so much more than his words, or maybe it was Nick's hopes and fears reflecting in Greg's eyes. Did he want to talk to Greg just because Greg was there?

 

No. No, it wasn't just because Greg was there. That was a part of it, of course, but that wasn't all of it. If Hodges had asked him to breakfast, Nick would've decline. If Sara or Catherine or Gil had asked him to breakfast, he would've gone, but it would've ended there. If Archie had asked him, he would've gone, and maybe they would've played videogames after breakfast, but the only people Nick could see inviting into his bed would be Warrick. Sofia, maybe, but that was highly unlikely.

 

But, he reminded himself, this wasn't about sex. This was about confiding in a friend - clearly Greg considered them friends, even if Nick hadn't, and Nick was more than agreeable to thinking of them as friends. More than that, too, but friendship was a start. "I do want." He did. He wanted so much. He just didn't know how to ask for it, or even what to ask for.

 

Greg nodded thoughtfully. "Are you in love with him?"

 

The question was a surprise, but considering what he'd just told Greg, it made sense. "No," he answered honestly. He didn't have to think about it much; he just wasn't in love with Warrick. Nick frowned. "At least, I don't think so."

 

Greg's smile was understanding, and that had Nick a little confused. He imagined that if he were in bed with another man, or a woman, his partner wouldn't mention anyone else Warrick may or may not have feelings for; that would just lead to jealousy and if there had been a mood before it was brought up, it would've been ruined by the question. But Greg was still touching him, still absently touching Nick's chest and lying close. "But you do care about him."

 

Coming from anyone else, especially in the context of lying in bed together, the statement would've sounded accusatory, but Greg just sounded curious. So what would have made him feel guilty or uncomfortable with someone else just made him feel thoughtful with Greg. "He's my best friend. Or at least, I thought he was." That wasn't the best way to put it, though. Warrick was the one who might not consider him a best friend; Nick still thought of him the same way, even if only because it was so hard to think of losing the relationship he and Warrick had had for so long. But Warrick had already ruined it, hadn't he? Nick didn't think he was overreacting; Warrick had left him out of his wedding. It was supposed to be the most important day of a person's life. "He didn't even tell me about his wedding."

 

"He didn't tell anyone," Greg pointed out. "He didn't even tell Cath, and you know they're like this." Greg crossed his fingers to demonstrate, and there it was. Jealousy. That was it, that was what he'd felt when he'd seen Tina for the first time. "If you ask me, he doesn't know what he's doing."

 

He hadn't asked, but he appreciated Greg's opinion all the same. "When I asked him about the ring, he didn't even know what I was talking about. It was like he didn't even remember he was married."

 

Greg shook his head sadly. "That's not something you should forget, especially the first night." Nick snorted. The first night was usually spent on a honeymoon, far from work and coworkers. Greg smiled wickedly. "And he didn't even get a bachelor party. That's the best part of getting married!"

 

Nick grinned. They were past the serious part of the conversation, at least for a moment, and it was a nice reprieve. "Oh yeah? How many times have you been married?"

 

"Pfft." Greg pushed lightly against his chest, and Nick rolled back with it, grinning when Greg's arm came around his waist to pull him back. "Zero. But I have been to plenty of bachelor parties." Wiggling his eyebrows, Greg let out the tip of his tongue, biting down on it for a second before he pulled his tongue back into his mouth. Nick was mesmerized. "When I worked in San Fran, we threw a bachelor party for one of the other techs. He was marrying a guy, so we got him these hot male strippers." Greg leaned closer, lowering his voice confidentially. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the ladies. But I love men."

 

Nick laughed. It was weird that he was in bed with Greg, that he wanted to kiss Greg more, maybe do other things, and was listening to Greg talk about other men and women and it didn't bother him. Maybe because Greg had been so willing to talk about his feelings for Warrick, or because Greg was unthreatening and made him feel comfortable.

 

It was great to see Greg like this again, flirtatious and laughing. Nick didn't realize how much he'd missed it until he had again, which, in retrospect, was a good thing. Before his kidnapping, his social life had consisted of Warrick, Archie, and the ocassional bar; maybe he'd lost Warrick, but he was gaining Greg. "Men can be pretty hot," he agreed.

 

Greg nodded enthusiastically, his smile reaching his eyes as he traced Nick's chest. "You know, when I first met you, I almost bought your whole ladies' man act." Nick raised his eyebrows. "Almost."

 

"What gave me away?"

 

"Nothing." Nick was confused, but Greg distracted him with a light kiss, so casual it felt like they'd been doing this for years. "I could never be sure, but I always thought you were flirting with me."

 

Nick chuckled. "I was. But only because you flirted first."

 

"I flirt with everyone." Greg flattened his hand against Nick's chest, his smile softening. "I'm glad I was right about you flirting back."

 

And that was why they were in bed together. Because even if they hadn't acknowledged it before, there had been something there. Life had just gotten in the way of them exploring it. "I'm glad you saw me going into the club," he murmured, pushing Greg's hair back and then pulling Greg closer with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad we ended up here."

 

Greg's pleased smile lit up his whole face. "Me too," he confided, his smile fading as his gaze dropped to Nick's lips. "I just wish we had some more time before work."

 

Keeping one hand on the pillow behind Greg's head, Nick twisted his head back to check the digital clock on his nightstand. He hadn't set his alarm since he wasn't used to needing it, and Greg was right. They had barely over an hour to get ready for work and get there. Nick came to a bold decision. "We could save some time by taking a shower together."

 

"Yeah?"

 

Nick grinned. "Yeah."

 

***

It was oddly awkward getting undressed in front of Greg and having Greg get undressed in front of him, even though they were going to be naked in the shower together. The size of the bathroom was probably a contributing factor; it was the smallest room in Nick's apartment, and they kept bumping into each other, apologizing and laughing and eventually pausing to size each other up when they were finished undressing.

 

That didn't last long. Before Nick had a chance to do a thorough visual comparison, Greg had his arms around Nick's waist, pulling Nick against him in a loose hug. Greg was leaning back to look at his face, but their thighs were pressed together, and Nick could feel Greg's cock brushing against his stomach, as hard as Nick's was. "Now, I don't want to make the wrong assumption about what we're going to be doing in that shower," Greg murmured, "but I'm guessing it's not just to get clean."

 

Nick licked his lips and looked down, shaking his head. Greg's breath brushed against his chest and Nick looked up to see Greg's head tilted down, looking at them the way Nick had been. "It's been a while," Nick admitted, and Greg lifted his gaze curiously. Nick wasn't sure how much they were going to do how fast, but since he pretty much agreed with Greg's desire to go with the flow instead of analyzing to death what was happening between them, he figured neither of them would know what was going to happen until it happened and it was better to get the technicalities out of the way. "I was clean last time I got tested but that was about a year ago."

 

Greg nodded, but he looked a little distracted. Nick didn't blame him; it was hard to think about technicalities when they were skin-to-skin like this. Especially for Nick, since it'd been so long for him, and he didn't know yet how long it had been for Greg. "Seven and a half months ago," Greg said. "My ex came back for a visit and we kinda hooked up." Nick raised his eyebrows, and Greg grinned wickedly. "Yeah, that was a good weekend. And yeah, I'm clean."

 

Maybe Nick was crazy, but he wanted more details about what Greg and his ex had done that made Greg look so wicked. It was intriguing, to say the least. "So, you wanna go no condoms?" he asked instead. "Or are you planning to sleep with other people?"

 

Greg looked surprised, to say the least. Honestly, Nick was a little surprised with himself, but Greg wasn't like anyone else Nick had dated. First of all, Greg was male; Nick had only ever had relationships with women, and with men, it had just been sex. One-night stands weren't exactly a setup for exclusivity, and since Greg had been doing breathplay with guys - I liked my partners to inhibit my breathing while we were having sex - while dating a woman, he didn't know how monogamous Greg wanted to be either.

 

"Let's do this," Greg said, rocking forward so they were flush from chest to thigh, making Nick hiss in a breath when their cocks rubbed against each other. "No condoms for now, but if one or both of us sleep with someone else - or if we decide to have a threesome - we'll start with condoms."

 

Nick coughed. "Threesome?"

 

Greg laughed, looking extremely amused. "I didn't show you that one yet, huh?" Nick shook his head, and Greg's smile softened. "Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, I won't bring it up again."

 

"No, that's okay." Nick chuckled, mostly at himself. "I wanna hear about the stuff you're into. As long as it doesn't involve bodily functions, I'm good." Greg laughed weakly. Damn. "What?" he asked. "Tell me now." He'd rather know now and be able to walk away rather than find out later and know what he was missing with Greg. When Greg didn't answer at first, Nick framed Greg's face and deepened his voice. He wasn't mad, but maybe it would get Greg to respond. "Greg."

 

"Okay, okay." Greg averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing darkly. Nick felt a little bad and even more apprehensive about what Greg was going to tell him, but he'd find out eventually. Hell, he'd already know if he hadn't lost it with his flashback and had given Greg a chance to explain all the bracelets. "It's not exactly a bodily function, except, it kinda is, but it's something I usually do solo so you don't ever have to be there." Nick had a feeling Greg wasn't talking about jerking off. Greg fidgeted uncomfortably, making Nick even more apprehensive because he didn't know what Greg was going to tell him and the pressure of Greg's body against his cock was sending confusing signals to his brain. Greg looked up before he answered. "I like enemas, okay?"

 

That was so far from what Nick expected that he didn't know how to respond. By 'like' he was pretty sure Greg meant he got off on it, and Nick had never heard of anyone enjoying an enema, never mind getting off on it. Then again, he hadn't exactly ever discussed that particular event with anyone, so he wouldn't know. "Oh." He really didn't know what to say. His body wasn't reacting badly, but then, he had a naked Greg pressed up against him. It would be pretty difficult to react badly to that.

 

Greg sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

 

Nick mentally shook himself out of his thoughtfulness. He was uncertain, but it wasn't bad enough to send him running, so there was no reason to keep Greg in suspense. "Hey, you know what? It's fine." Nick considered joking that at least Greg would be ready if they ever got to the point of fucking, but he wasn't that comfortable with it yet. At least Greg wasn't into watersports. "So, have you ever actually been in a threesome?"

 

The skeptical look Greg gave him made it obvious that Greg knew he was changing the subject. Greg shrugged, his face remaining composed until the smile he was fighting broke through. "Yeah. You should try it sometime."

 

Nick grinned, thoroughly satisfied with the change of subject. "Maybe," he allowed. "But right now, I'm more interested in a twosome."

 

"Oh yeah?" Greg looked around the bathroom, then back at Nick. "With me?" he teased, and Nick nodded.

 

"You bet with you," Nick agreed, wrapping his arms around Greg's upper back. They were about the same height, so they could look right into each others' eyes. Nick liked that.

 

"You do have waterproof lube, right?"

 

"Uh." What exactly was Greg planning for them in the shower? "No?"

 

Greg snorted. "You're not sure?"

 

"Okay, I don't," he clarified. "Can't we just use regular lube?"

 

Greg looked... disappointed in him. "You've never had sex in a shower, have you?"

 

"No?" Greg's eyeroll made Nick reconsider his answer. "No."

 

There was that wicked grin Nick was starting to look forward to. "Well, you're going to now."

 

***

Greg had a fantastic mouth. Nick might have already known that, but there was no better demonstration of how fantastic a mouth was than having it wrapped around his cock. And without a condom. It had been so long that Nick couldn't exactly remember well enough to tell if it was different without a condom, but there was really no reason to be thinking about past blowjobs when Greg was giving him one right now.

 

Hands braced palms-down against the tile wall of the shower, Nick pressed his chin to his chest so he could watch Greg work, water dripping down his face and into his open mouth, streaming down his chest and into Greg's hair, separating the usually soft waves into slick, straight segments that tapered off at his forehead and ears. Greg was just starting, his hands framing the base of Nick's cock as he suckled the head, so Nick could still see Greg's face, Greg's eyes, even though it was hard to keep his vision from going blurry between the water dripping past his eyelashes and the sharp pleasure of Greg's tongue probing the slit of his cock. The tip of Greg's tongue, the one he let out and bit when he'd been particularly amused during their conversation in bed, Nick knew exactly what it looked like and now it was stroking the tiny opening on Nick's cock.

 

Dark, half-open eyes met Nick's, eyelids twitching under the onslaught of water but managing to look seductive all the same. If it was possible, Greg smiled at Nick with his eyes, and then those slick eyelashes were fanning Greg's cheeks when he focused on the job at hand again.

 

Nick took a ragged breath, grunting at the near-audible thump as the back of his head met the tile again. It was just too fucking hot watching Greg and feeling him at the same time, and if he didn't focus, this was going to be over way too damn soon. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that this would happen, Greg on his knees in Nick's shower, making the gentle rain of shower water seem cool compared to the warmth and talent of Greg's mouth.

 

Then Greg took more. Nick could imagine Greg's lips spreading, then he could see it, and wondered when exactly he'd opened his eyes. Not that it mattered; this was incredible, Greg sucking his cock, eyelids fluttering in pleasure - or maybe because of the water - happy little sounds coming out of his throat like Nick's cock was the best thing ever, the little vibrations teasing, making Nick want more. He doubted Greg would be able to deepthroat him; no one had ever tried, and any comments that had been made about Nick's cock had just been making fun of him for how small it was. Nick resented that; his cock may have been shorter than average, but it was thick, and he thought guys were supposed to like that. No one had ever complimented on his size, but maybe Greg's happy little moans and slurps were tantamount to compliments, and anyway, Greg's mouth was around his cock making Nick moan for the first time in over a year and that was all that mattered at the moment.

 

One of Greg's hands left his groin, and Nick's cock jerked, expecting additional hands-on attention. Instead, Greg's fingers closed around Nick's right wrist, eliciting a confused moan from Nick's throat. He didn't know what Greg was doing, and then Greg was guiding him, putting Nick's hand on the back of his head, and oh, he could feel those thick strands of hair distorting under his hand, wet and textured, and Greg's head was moving. Nick knew his expression was probably laughable, eyes wide, jaw dropped, but he had to stare. Pressure against his hand and shocky coolness when Greg's mouth pulled off, air under his hand and sweet wet warmth when Greg's mouth slid back into place. Again, and again, Greg kept doing it, slowly, carefully, each movement calculated and God, Greg was fucking his face on Nick's cock.

 

His body caught on before his mind did, fingers twisting in Greg's hair, following the movement of his head, never leaving, and his hips stayed where they were when Greg pulled back, making Nick's thighs tremble, but he finally moved the way he wanted when Greg moved forward again, thrusting his hips forward to give Greg more. Greg was moaning constantly now, one hand braced on the wall next to Nick's hip, the other down somewhere that wasn't Nick's cock. The slick slap of skin against skin gave him away, though, the way Greg's shoulder jerked rhythmically and his mouth moved faster on Nick's cock. Tightening his fingers in Greg's hair, Nick dropped his head back and closed his eyes and just... let go. His hips were moving, Greg's mouth was moving, his balls were tightening and there was sweet, sweet tension all through his body, tensing and tensing until it was all released right into Greg's mouth.

 

Greg fell back with a gurgling sound, face raised to the spray of water and Nick came all over his chest, watching as Greg's face twisted and he jerked himself off faster and then Greg was coming, too. Nick sagged back against the shower wall, then decided to hell with it and slid down to sit with Greg, because he was too damn spent to hold himself up. He couldn't ever remember it being that damn good, and he didn't know if it was how long it had been or how good Greg was or a combination of the two.

 

Greg was beautiful when he laughed, a weak, satisfied kind of sound. Nick laughed with him, exhilerated, feeling almost as if it had been his first time. It was definitely a first in a lot of ways, and a first with Greg, and Nick was starting to realize that was a good thing.

 

Greg stood up then, moaning not so happily, and as hard as it had been for Nick to hold himself up, he imagined that Greg's knees weren't feeling so great. Greg's cock was dangling in front of him at eye level, so Nick reached up to pet it, laughing when Greg laughed and swatted his hand away. "Not if you want to get to work on time, you won't."

 

Shit. Work. Nick didn't know how long they'd been in the shower, but it felt like forever, in a good way, but it would be in a bad way if they were late for work, and late for work together. Nick started to scramble up to his feet, slipped a little and grinned gratefully when Greg gripped his arms and helped pull him up. Huh. For such a skinny guy, Greg was pretty strong.

 

"That was fantastic," he murmured once he was standing, pulling Greg against him and planting an enthusiastic kiss on Greg's mouth. "Maybe we could try it again sometime. Soon," he clarified, in case Greg thought Nick was blowing him off.

 

"Mos' definitely," Greg said, nodding vigorously and then tilting his head in for an even more vigorous kiss. Nick grinned into the kiss, trying not to get drawn into it too much because they did, after all, have work. "When's a good time for you?"

 

At the risk of sounding too eager, Nick started to suggest later this week or maybe even next week, but hell, who was he kidding? Greg wasn't exactly acting any less eager than Nick felt. "How 'bout tomorrow?"

 

Greg caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth, making Nick's cock twitch painfully. "I made that good of an impression, huh?"

 

Suddenly, Nick didn't want Greg to think it was just about the sex. "It's not just that," Nick clarified, wondering where exactly his masculinity had gone. What guy didn't want good sex? What guy didn't want to admit it, for that matter? "I wanna spend more time with you. Get to know you better."

 

The look on Greg's face sobered, and everything went quiet, the only sound in the apartment the water pattering against their skin and the beating of Nick's heart in his ears. He wanted Greg to believe him, he wanted to start some kind of relationship that wasn't just about sex. He'd had enough sex sans relationships to know how empty it felt after a while, and he didn't want to limit his newfound chemistry with Greg to sex. And he prayed Greg wanted the same thing.

 

"I think that can be arranged," Greg finally said, a pleased smile matching the pleased look in his eyes.

 

"Good," Nick said firmly, grinning as he held Greg against him. This was good. Maybe this could turn into something. Maybe it could work.

 

One arm wrapped snugly around Greg's waist, Nick reached for the soap and started rubbing it in circles over Greg's chest. They had to get ready for work, but they could do it together. "What are you doing?" Greg sounded confused.

 

Nick lifted his eyes to Greg's. "Washing you," he replied, pausing in his ministrations when he realized Greg might not like that. "Is, um, is that okay?"

 

The smile lit up Greg's face. "Yeah, it's totally okay." Greg looped his arms around Nick's neck and then leaned back, giving Nick more room to wash him. Nick didn't know why he was blushing, but he kept doing what he was doing, lathering up Greg's chest carefully and thoroughly. "If I can wash you after," Greg added.

 

Nick looked up, surprised. He didn't expect anything from Greg, but if Greg wanted to return the favor, then, well, that was fine with Nick. Actually, that was great. "Yeah," he grinned. No one had ever offered to wash him before, but then, he'd never offered to wash someone else, either. Funny how things worked out. "I'd like that."

 

***


	7. Chapter 7

  
Author's notes: Greg has plans for a certain ex-bachelor.  


* * *

It had been another slow night in Vegas, and Greg was up to no good. No one else could've convinced Nick to stake out Warrick's car, sneaking out five minutes early so they could surprise Warrick in the parking lot. Archie was already there, and Nick could see Greg approaching.

 

"Okay." Greg was jogging and talking at the same time, a huge grin on his face. "Warrick's on his way. He doesn't know we're here yet. Catherine couldn't come, but guess who is?" Greg smirked, and then one of the other lab techs appeared. Nick and Archie exchanged a look.

 

Hodges scowled when he saw Nick. "You didn't say he was coming," Hodges accused, his feathers as ruffled as Nick's. Nick looked questioningly at Greg; the two of them didn't get along, so why would Greg have invited him?

 

Before Nick had a chance to figure out how to ask Greg without Hodges and Archie seeing, Archie hushed them all, pointing out Warrick walking through the lot. They all went quiet and allowed Greg to herd them behind Warrick's truck. "You keep watch," Greg whispered, nudging Nick with his elbow. "We'll come out when you do." Nick almost laughed. The only coming out he was going to do was from behind the car.

 

Not that he minded keeping watch. Warrick strode obliviously through the parking lot, hips swaying casually, the set of his shoulders and the confidence of his stride announcing the prowess of a man unburdened by self-consciousness. Warrick Brown was sex on legs, and Nick didn't know why he'd never noticed it before. Was he only noticing it now because he couldn't have him? And if he got Greg to talk about his ex, would Greg listen to him talk about how frustratingly hot Warrick was?

 

Pay attention, Stokes, he reminded himself. They had one chance to surprise Warrick and talk him into the bachelor party. They wouldn't be doing it if Warrick had to go home to Tina, but fortunately, Tina worked during the day so they could, well, kidnap Warrick for a few hours. The word made Nick uncomfortable, but only because of his own experience, and he knew they weren't doing the same thing to Warrick. Just... borrowing him to give him the bachelor party he hadn't gotten since he hadn't announced his plans to get married.

 

"Okay," Nick whispered as Warrick got closer, and turned to tell Greg that they could come out. Instead of Greg, though, he found Hodges at his elbow, his eyes narrowed expectantly. Nick didn't have time to complain. "Come on," he whispered, then leaped out from behind the truck. Hodges and Greg and Archie followed, surprising Warrick into a standstill in front of the driver's side door.

 

"What the hell is this?"

 

Of the four of them, Nick was Warrick's closest friend, or at least, he had been. Nick mentally shook his head; this was a time for celebration, not bitterness. He couldn't change what had happened, but he could support Warrick's decision because that was what friends did. And since Nick knew Warrick the best, he was the one who got to break the news to Warrick. "We're gonna show you a good time," Nick promised jovially, clapping Warrick on the back. "One last hurrah before y'go home to th'old ball an' chain."

 

Warrick blinked, looking between the four of them, and shook his head. "Guys, this isn't necessary."

 

"Sure it is," Greg said enthusiastically, coming up to stand between Warrick and the door. "Every guy deserves a bachelor party. You think Tina's friends are making her work today?"

 

Warrick frowned, seeming to consider that. Nick didn't know if it was the determination and enthusiasm of his peers, or Greg's argument, but Warrick finally threw up his hands. "Fine," he conceded, sighing when Greg whooped. Warrick gave Nick a tired look, but he smiled his appreciation. Nick grinned, glad they weren't doing this completely against his will. "Where to?"

 

***

 

Greg looked like he was having the time of his life, even though he'd agreed to be the designated driver and wasn't drinking anything. The lack of alcohol didn't seem to impede Greg's enjoyment of the strippers, though; he had a huge grin on his face as he watched them move, waving dollar bills between his fingers. Nick couldn't tell if Greg was doing it just to seem straight to his friends, or if he was really having as much fun as it seemed, but then, Nick sometimes got the feeling that Greg was easily amused.

 

Warrick wasn't enjoying himself as much, but he was sitting next to Nick, and between Warrick and Greg, Nick was pretty satisfied with the morning. Everyone else was looking at the strippers, so no one noticed when Nick gazed at Greg or Warrick instead of the women, more interested in his fully-dressed coworkers than the mostly-naked women onstage.

 

Nick drank more to get into the spirit, but he'd forgotten that his already questionable bisexuality tipped even more toward homosexuality when he was drunk. In no time Nick was grinning up at the ladies, shouting encouragement with Greg and Archie, one arm around Greg's shoulders and the other draped over Warrick's. No one protested, probably because Warrick had had as many beers as Nick and Greg wasn't complaining because, well, he was Greg.

 

Warrick was leaning into him, and Nick grinned, his drunken state leading him to anticipate something other than what Warrick actually did, which was mumble something that was unintelligeble except for the word 'bathroom'. Oh. Nick nodded an acknowledgment, smiling lazily until he realized that he was still nodding and Warrick was gone. Sighing, Nick leaned more heavily on Greg, leaning close to whisper loudly in his ear. "Why is Hodges here?" he asked curiously, taking advantage of the first chance he had to ask why Greg had invited the one person in the lab who didn't like Nick.

 

"Whoa, careful," Greg laughed, pushing Nick gently away from him. "We're in public, remember," Greg whispered, but all Nick really cared about was the brush of Greg's breath in his ear. Yeah, Nick was horny. "I'll tell you when you're sober."

 

Sober? He was sober. "I am sober," he insisted, smiling seductively at Greg. It didn't seem to work, since Greg made a face and pulled away.

 

"You smell like beer," Greg informed him. Nick frowned, wondering why that was a problem. Beer smelled good. Not as good as Greg, though. "Uh, Nick?" Greg pushed at him, taking Nick's arm from around his shoulders as he looked surreptitiously at Archie and Hodges. "Maybe we should go."

 

***

 

Greg made him sit in the back seat, which was probably a good thing since otherwise Nick didn't know how he'd keep his hands off Greg. Nick was drowsy, so he rested his head against Warrick's shoulder, nuzzling it happily when Warrick didn't pull away.

 

He must've missed Greg dropping off Archie and Hodges because now it was only three of them in the car. Maybe they could both go to Warrick's place and show Warrick a really good time. Greg could use his mouth and Nick could... um... do something. Kiss him, Nick could kiss him.

 

"Whoa, hey." Warrick sounded surprised, and Nick opened his eyes, realizing with a flush that he wasn't just thinking about kissing Warrick. He was actually doing it, tasting the skin on Warrick's neck, humming happily to himself until Warrick made him aware of his actions.

 

"Um," he mumbled, breathing Warrick in one more time before he pulled away. That wasn't right. "I, um. Sorry, man." Nick caught Greg looking at them in the rearview mirror, and looked away guiltily; this couldn't be what Greg wanted to see.

 

"It's, uh, okay."

 

Maybe Warrick was drunk enough that he wouldn't remember this later. Nick knew he was drunk enough that he should probably keep his distance if he didn't want to do anything to offend Warrick, so he rested against the door instead of Warrick's body, slumping heavily as he gave into the drowsiness.

 

Next thing he knew, they were turning into Warrick's driveway, and Warrick was starting to leave. Nick was too slow to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Warrick in an unplanned embrace, enthusiastically mumbling "I love you, man," as Warrick tried to leave. But Warrick wasn't just leaving, he was petting Nick's hair, or at least, Nick thought he was, and he thought Warrick was saying he loved him, too. Nick smiled contentedly and watched Warrick go, then promptly passed out in the back seat of Greg's car.

 

***

Light. Light was stabbing his brain and his head was throbbing and there was being a crime committed somewhere because people were screaming. He was in a bed, he could tell because it was a lot softer than the ground and he had more room to spread out than in Greg's car... Greg's car? Wait... When had he gotten out of Greg's car? How?

 

"Up and at 'em, cowboy, we gotta get ready for work..."

 

Greg. Of course it was Greg. Had Greg gotten him out of the car all by himself? "Not a cowboy," he protested, throwing an arm over his closed eyes. "No such thing as cowboys."

 

Greg laughed, and that was usually a great sound, except Nick's head was throbbing and his eyes were hurting. "I think you're thinking of Santa," Greg informed him, his voice far too cheerful for someone with a hangover. Did Greg have a hangover? No... Wait, did he?

 

"No Santa either," Nick mumbled, groaning when Greg tried to pry Nick's arm from his face. Didn't Greg hear that screaming? "Call the cops?" Wasn't Nick the cops? No, not anymore. He was a CSI now. He thought. He should be investigating the crime but it was so loud and so bright and Nick just wanted to block everything out except then he'd be claustrophobic and that wouldn't be a good thing.

 

"What? Why?"

 

"Screaming..." he said weakly, and rolled onto his stomach, and made a face at the sticky feeling in his pants. What the hell?

 

Greg was laughing again, and it hurt. "Aw, that's just my alarm. I have it on a Green Day CD. Really wakes you up, you know?"

 

He could say that again. "What... Day?"

 

"Green," Greg repeated, rolling Nick over onto his back again. He really was strong for such a skinny guy, and Nick put his hands over his eyes in self-defense. "Kinda like you are, actually. Green around the gills. Around the gills, ha." Greg snickered. "Gills. Gill."

 

Greg kept snickering, and instead of trying to figure out what the hell he was on, Nick took advantage of Greg's little Beavis and Butthead moment to drag the covers up over his eyes. He hadn't had that much to drink in... it had to beers, no, years, hadn't had that much to drink in years because... he didn't want to go to work with a hangover. Right. "Noooo," he protested when Greg pulled the blankets away, and Nick shielded his eyes again. "You're worse than Mac."

 

"Mac?" Greg's voice got high when he was curious. "Who's Mac?"

 

"All hail Mac," Nick mumbled, lifting his hand in a wave. "Mac is awesome."

 

"O-kay." Greg was moving around on the bed, making Nick dizzy again. "Can I take your pants off now?"

 

"..." Nick wasn't sure why Greg wanted to do that, especially when Nick was half insane, but hey, it actually sounded like a good idea, so Nick smiled. "Mkay." Maybe Greg would stop torturing him and start blowing him. That might make it easier to recover from his hangover.

 

"Good." Greg's hands were already on the button, and he got to the fly soon. That was nice. No pants was nice. "I would've taken your pants off sooner, you know, since you made such a mess, but I didn't want you to think I took advantage of you when you were drunk."

 

Nick frowned. "You didn't take advantage of me?" Well, it wasn't like he would've remembered, anyway. "Can you take advantage of me now?"

 

"Oho, no." Greg shouldn't sound so amused. "We have to get ready for work, and you're in no shape for sex. Sorry."

 

"I am in shape!" Nick was very much in shape, and he could even take off his own pants, if Greg would let him. "I go to the gym like... like once a week."

 

"Of course you do," Greg said patronizingly. "But that's not the kind of shape I mean. I mean, sometimes I dig a little pain with my sex, you know? But I'm betting the headache you have right now isn't the good kind of pain."

 

"How'd you know I have a headache?"

 

Greg was petting him. "My poor, naive little Nick. You should have a look at yourself in the mirror."

 

Greg was still petting him, like Warrick had been in the car. Nick frowned. "Did I have sex with Warrick?"

 

Greg laughed. "No, but I think you wanted to. If it makes you feel any better, you humped me all the way to the bedroom."

 

Nick's face got very hot. He had a feeling 'sorry' wouldn't make up for that. "Damn, Greg. I didn't mean to-"

 

"I know," Greg said gently, then tugged off Nick's boxers and started wiping him down with a moist cloth. Nick was confused. Was Greg taking advantage of his hangover by torturing him or cleaning him? "I knew exactly what I was getting into when I brought you guys to the strip club."

 

Nick tried to wrap his head around that, but it was too busy throbbing. Not as much as before, though. In fact, Nick ventured to open his eyes. A little bright, stung a little, but it didn't feel like there was an icepick in his skull. "So why'd you bring us?"

 

Greg smiled. "Well," he said thoughtfully, running the cloth over Nick's body in warm, steady strokes, "Warrick got married, and as his friends, it's our duty to show him what he'll be missing from now on." Greg had pushed up Nick's shirt and was running the cloth over his stomach, which actually felt pretty good. "You're his best friend so of course you were invited, and Archie's all our friends so I asked him to come, and Hodges, well." Greg stopped there.

 

Nick raised himself onto his elbows, looking seriously at Greg. "Yeah, why was Hodges there?"

 

Greg cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Uh, well," he began, focusing intently on the motion of his hands, "I can't really... say."

 

Nick narrowed his eyes. "You said you'd tell me when I was sober," he reminded Greg petulantly. Greg sighed.

 

"Fine, fine. But you can't tell anyone I told you." Nick raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Greg to continue. "Okay. Hodges has a crush on you."

 

"What?!"

 

Greg cringed. "You can't tell him I told you!" he exclaimed, dropping the cloth on the mattress and a clean pair of boxers in Nick's lap. "He'll kill me!"

 

Nick didn't want that. "I won't tell him," he promised, "but I still don't see why you think he has a crush on me."

 

"Oh my God. It's so obvious." Greg rolled his eyes. "Look, just - don't say anything, okay? He's very sensitive."

 

"Sensitive? Hodges?" Nick snorted. "Insensitive is more like it."

 

"Look, I'm not joking," Greg said. "I know he knows you'll never like him the way he likes you, but when there was someone I liked, even if I knew they didn't like me, I still liked spending time with them. So how could I turn Hodges down when he asked to come? He pretended he just wanted to see the strippers, but I know why he really wanted to come."

 

Well, he went, but Nick doubted he came. And that was really something Nick didn't want to think about when the person in question was Hodges. "That's very thoughtful of you," Nick said diplomatically. He didn't want to think about Hodges anymore, but he did want to think about Greg. So instead of putting the boxers on, he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist, pulling Greg against him. "Even if there's no sex, a shower sounds good right about now," he murmured, smiling when Greg kissed his lips.

 

"Mmm, sounds good to me too," Greg murmured back. He bounced off the bed and started getting undressed, glancing at Nick over his shoulder as he left the bedroom to head for the bathroom. "And who knows, you might even get lucky."

 

***


	8. Chapter 8

Nick didn't know how he was going to face Hodges, now that he knew Hodges had a crush on him. It was - odd, really, to think that Hodges had a crush on anyone except, well, himself, because Hodges loved himself. A lot. Although sometimes Nick thought that arrogance was just a cover for insecurity.

 

Before he worried about Hodges, though, he needed to worry about getting to work. His headache still persisted, having returned not long after he joined Greg in the shower, and now he was nauseous, too. In his college days, Nick had been a lot better at holding his alcohol, but not so much now.

 

At least this time he threw up in the toilet, instead of all over Greg's kitchen table.

 

"Why don't I give you a ride?" Greg suggested, and Nick nodded. Normally he'd protest, but yeah, he was pretty much feeling like shit. He'd always hated going to class with hangovers, and working a case with a hangover was even worse. Hopefully, it would be another slow night.

 

***

 

One of the things that attracted Nick to Warrick his confidence, confidence that sometimes bled over into his posture, the way he walked. Nick had often noticed how loose-limbed Warrick could be, and he was like that tonight, but it was exagerrated, the way he leaned against his locker, the way his shoulder dipped more than usual when he put his gun in his belt. Probably still hungover, and from the look on his face, exhausted, too.

 

Nick wasn't surprised to see him at work, though; Greg, on the other hand, stopped in his tracks. "What are you doing here? I thought you were getting time for your honeymoon."

 

Warrick snorted. "What honeymoon," he muttered. "Tina an' I're married to our jobs and oh, yeah." Warrick looked up at Greg. "I'm in the doghouse."

 

Greg smiled sheepishly. "Damn, Warrick. I wouldn't have brought you out if I knew you were gonna get in trouble."

 

Warrick just shrugged, leaning casually against his locker after closing the door. "Not your fault," he said charitably. "No one gave me the Marriage Handbook." The sarcasm was easily detected in his tone. "Apparently you're supposed to have the bachelor party before the wedding. Who knew?"

 

Well, Nick had thought that was kind of a given, but Warrick's question was rhetorical, so he didn't answer. He changed quietly, letting Warrick and Greg discuss it amongst themselves. Nick had only told Warrick about their plans; he hadn't convinced him like Greg had.

 

Greg left first, leaving Nick alone with Warrick. The last time they'd been at work together, they'd fought about Warrick's marriage, and the next time Warrick had seen him, they took him to a strip club. The beer made the morning kind of blurry, so Nick didn't know exactly what had happened, but Greg had said he was acting like he wanted to have sex with Warrick, and Nick distinctly remembered petting. Not heavy petting, petting of the top of his head, meant to... what, calm him down?

 

"Look, Rick," he started, "about this morning..."

 

Warrick held up a hand, shaking his head at Nick's aborted apology. "It's fine."

 

"You sure?" Nick didn't want to leave things the way they'd been left. "I mean - I am... happy for you," he forced himself to say. He should be happy for Warrick. Not jealous.

 

"Yeah, well." Warrick was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, and really, he shouldn't be allowed to walk around with a half-buttoned shirt all the time. It was inappropriate and - hot. And Nick didn't need to be thinking about how hot Warrick was when he should be focusing on a case. "Honeymoon's over before it started."

 

Nick was a really, really bad person for finding that comment hopeful. He had to be a good friend, not give into the selfish reaction of hoping that maybe it would be over and he'd have a chance with Warrick after all. Not just because he should want Warrick's happiness, but because he was with Greg now. Except not, because they might sleep with other people, so they weren't really committed. Which Nick didn't want anyway, because he so wasn't ready for that, but still. There were... things he wanted, even if he couldn't put them into words. "Do you... regret it?" He wasn't just asking because he wanted the answer to be yes. He really, really wasn't.

 

Warrick frowned deeply, bowing his head as he rubbed at the back of his neck. Damn, and even if Warrick wanted to say yes, he probably couldn't. "Doesn't matter," he finally said. "It's a lifelong commitment, right?"

 

Ouch. Just had to throw Nick's words right back at him, didn't he? "Doesn't have to be in Vegas," Nick said, hating himself as he did. He shouldn't be encouraging this kind of conversation, shouldn't be talking this way about something as sacred as marriage. Except, of course, for the fact that it wasn't very sacred anymore, considering that half of marriages ended in divorce.

 

Warrick shook his head, and Nick was just paranoid enough to feel like Warrick knew his motives. "I did what I did," Warrick said in monotone. "I can't back down on a commitment."

 

It sounded to Nick like Warrick was saying more 'I's than 'we's, and wasn't marriage supposed to be about we? But Nick had to stop looking for holes in Warrick's marriage, because it was none of Nick's damn business, and he had to just be there for his friend, no matter how bitter it made him feel. So Nick swallowed his objections and clapped Warrick on the shoulder, showing support that wasn't sincere. "That's admirable, man." At least that was the truth. Warrick was an admirable man who did what was right even when it didn't feel good. Nick felt a little sad for his friend, in a marriage he didn't seem to want, but it wasn't up to him to choose Warrick's lifestyle. "I'll see you later, kay?"

 

"Yeah, sure thing," Warrick agreed with a slight smile. "Maybe breakfast."

 

"Yeah, maybe." If they went to breakfast, Nick would be inviting Greg, or at least telling Greg of his plans so they could make plans for the rest of the day. Nick didn't expect to get to stay at Greg's every day, of course, but if they could hang out today, Nick was all for it. "See you at assignments," Nick said, and took out his clothes so he could change.

 

***


End file.
